Bali Cooking Class Day Shopping at Market

This was going to be one very exciting day for us. Judy loved to cook Indonesian food and we had a small restaurant on our street: MIRASA, a tiny place where the owner's wife was the cook. So, we had Indonesian food in our blood. The plan was to spend the morning shopping for the food with the teacher/chef and then cook our own lunch.

Wayan and the driver met us at 7 at the hotel lobby and drove us to the Waka di Ume resort where we met our teacher Arik. They left us with her and she had the resort van drive us downtown to the local market to shop. She told us that the market started at about 4 in the morning and was closed at 9, so that the tourist art market could be set up. 

Arik talking with Judy just as we began our shopping in the market. Two things are quite obvious: Arik is pregnant AND she is quite professional in appearance. Arik was a charming, well-informed lady, with a quiet voice, who slowly explained every little detail of the market to us. They are standing in front of a large basket of offerings that will be placed at the door of a temple where a wedding is taking place. She talked openly of "Bali stomachs" versus "foreigners' stomachs." She would offer us fruit to try, but she would handle the fruit and peel it and let us eat the sweet inside. Of course, there were fruits that were strange to us, but Arik knew their names. She was a teacher, in fact. 

 This is a typical "stall" at the market. We have seen these kinds of shops in every country in the East. This lady is selling woven baskets, beaded bags, and towels.

 This is a spice seller, with ground pepper, cardoman, eggs, and some very small fruits, like limes. There are beans also. She is set up on wooden crates away from the stone floor.

 Onions, peppers, ginger and potatoes. She is a farmer's wife, Arik told us, and comes to the market every day.

 This lady makes and sells the small woven baskets placed at every door in Bali. These are not yet complete and she is about to place the small red flowers on each one.

 Dried fish, beans and potatoes for sale.

 This is a fruit stall, selling grapes, oranges, apples, and plantain.

 This stall sells the woven offering baskets. Next to her is the egg lady. The Balinese market is fly-ridden, dirty, with farmers and their families selling produce. "Open from 3AM to 9AM for the Balinese," Arik told us, "Then it is cleaned and it becomes an art market for tourists." Yes, we understand that, but what it means is that the farmers have to be there right after midnight to set up and then don't finish until 9. That is nine hours AT NIGHT. So, when do they work? It must mean that the husbands are at home on the farm working while their wives, mothers and aunts are at the market. Amazing how hard they work and for so little.

 Since religion is so important to the Balinese, every day and every ceremony is honored with an offering. This lady sells the flowers that go into the offering baskets.

 These long beans, called "kousebonen" in Holland, are important ingredients in Indonesian cooking. There are also bean sprouts for sale.

 Well, it is obvious what is for sale here. The first fish we saw, galengal, coconuts, banana leaves AND durian, the famous stinky fruit that orangutuans love.

 Just a simple shop, but the lady on the right is wearing a traditional Bali lady's sarong.

Judy walking down to the basement level of the market. Every centimeter is filled with shops. The lovely smells and sounds of the market filled the air and made us hungry for cooking.

 We finally arrived at the meat section of the market. Just like China, these people lay the slaughtered pieces of meat on plates for sale. There is no attempt at all for keeping meat cool or protected from flies. But, the chicken looked fresh. Arik told us that she does not buy meat for the kitchen here, but it is delivered right from the farmers.

 This is pork, because the Balinese do not eat cow meat.

 Judy's favorite: tomatoes.

The VERY pregnant Arik picking up a piece of fruit (what kind?) and telling us: "I will peel this and you try it. It is sweet."

 As we left the market to take the van to the cooking lesson, we saw this little girl. She reminded us of Manami, our 3 year old granddaughter. So cute, so still. Sort of afraid of us, the strangers, but still a quiet pretty girl, so well dressed. At that moment, we told Arik we wanted to buy clothing for Manami.

Arik brought us to this shop, and Judy had a LOT of fun buying a pair of Balinese girls' pants and a top for Manami.

Here they are.

 The little Batik dress will be CUTE.

And, what do you think of these beautiful pants? Judy was very pleased (and with the price, too).

The Market shopping was over and the hotel van took the three of us to the cooking class. It was now just about 8:30 and the market was beginning to close down. Somehow, a large open truck was backed into the ground floor, right between all the shops. Men with shovels, brooms and wicker baskets, swept and cleaned the floor and threw the baskets of garbage into the truck, where another man emptied the baskets and threw them back. It was noisy AND dirty, A zillion flies and a zillion shouts. All the garbage was dumped into a central walled area for pick up later, I guess. I couldn't see tourists enjoying the smells.

At Waka di Ume Hotel and Spa, Arik sat us at a table and offered us breakfast. Tea or coffee and Balinese sticky white and black rice; baked banana; croissant, toast, muffin ("all fresh today"); watermelon jam, papaya jam, mango jam "All made fresh every day." Arik said, "You can't keep it, so people who want to take it home, we must say NO".

We sat quietly talking, absolutely in love with our morning adventure. The hotel guests looked so....so Western and clean. We laughed: little did they know that we had just been in the local market , where they would never go unless they took a cooking class (OR, got up very early). Arik bustled around talking with the kitchen staff and "planning the daily menu". She also trained the young trainees and taught the cooking lesson. A busy (pregnant) lady. She told us," I have two daughters, but (shrugs her shoulders) my husband.....well. I am 38 years old and did not want any more children. I come from a poor family. My mother gave me nothing and I want to give more to my daughters. I went to university to learn Hospitality and to be a chef. My daughters are 16 and 10 and now......I have worked in the hotel for 14 years. I cook, run the kitchen AND teach Balinese cooking in the traditional outdoor wood fired Balinese kitchen. I want to give my daughters what my mother did not give me. We were poor. I took contraception from the doctor, but I got headaches. I went to the doctor and he said I was pregnant. I was sad, but my philosophy is to be happy. With happiness, life goes better. Now, I am satisfied. My daughters can take care of the baby. The hotel gives me 3 months leave. I drive a motorscooter the 12 kilometers home and back every day even though I am almost 8 months pregenant . I take my girls to school, one in the front, one in the back and (laughs) one and a half in the middle. I hope it is a son. I must work because my husband works in the rice filed. It is enough to feed our family, but none to sell.

 Arik with a lemon seller behind her. Arik told us that her name is "Arik. ARAK makes you drunk, my name makes you smile."

Sunday Temple Tour

 We began the day with a continental breakfast: sliced watermelon, sliced papaya, sliced mango (exactly 9 pieces on the plate), tea (Judy had coffee). I had a mixed fruit drink and Judy had fresh watermelon juice. Croissants, toast, and orange marmalade completed the meal. In the early morning sun it was cool in the mountains. This is the dream vista. Far away on the other hill, is a house--and terraced fields. The deep valley is filled with large trees; palm trees also. Birds were whistling. A very slight breeze. It was very pretty. "Take a picture," Judy said. I took one.

Religion is an integral part of the life of a Balinese family. And today, Wayan gave us a series of "lectures" about religion. He showed us how each village has a Village Temple where all important feasts are held and where the villagers gather to decide on political issues or settle questions of land ownership.

Karma is the key to the religion. Wayan said, "There are three kinds of karma. What you do today, you get today. What you did yesterday, you get today. What you do today, you get tomorrow." So, they plan their lives never to have bad karma, to treat everyone with good karma, to think good thoughts, to be happy with life, to be kind and thoughtful and to live a religious life. To see this in action, we visited a farm.

Wayan showed us that the house was built around a square courtyard. It was not a single house as we know it, but a compound with four dwellings inside. At the front entrance, facing South, was a large open gate. Two large statues were on either side of the opening. One was Vishnu and the other Siva. Little baskets of flowers and herbs were at the foot of each statue at about eye level. "These are offering to the good gods, but on the ground, in the dirt, there is also a basket of offerings. Why? Because everything in life is made of two things: hot/cold; up/down; good/evil. These offerings are for the bad gods that live near the ground." You  can see Wayan inside the gate. The lower statues are sort of monkey gods with red flowers behind their ears and white/yellow flowers in their hands.

Wayan explained the physical layout of the farm. "It is a square with dwellings or sheds at North, East, South and West. There is a wall around the farm (house) to protect it from evil spirits. The gate has a statue to guard the family AND there is a wall inside the outer wall to keep the evil spirits away." In fact, the front gate is completely open, but there is a wall immediately inside, so you have to walk around this wall, and that is to keep the evil outside. The Northern structure is where the family sleeps. The Eastern structure is the kitchen, with the pigpen outside. (The Buddhists eat pork, but raise beef for the Moslims, who don't eat pork). The Southern opening is the main door. And on the West is the Temple with family statues. In the center of the compound is a raised, covered, open structure where important ceremonies are carried out.

Wayan talked about these ceremonies. Of course, birth and death were first. Babies are delivered on the central location and people are cleaned up for burial on the central structure. Hindus and Buddhists are cremated, but only if they have enough money for the ritual. So, poor people bundle their dead in common graves until they all have the funds for a burial. There is also a Tooth-Filing ceremony for all Balinese. Wayan showed us his filed "eye" teeth. It is mandatory because they believe that the eye teeth, if left long and pointed, allow the evil to enter the body.

While we were visiting the farm, we were shown the family pig being fattened for future dinners.

 At the Northern end of the compound, far from the pig stall and cooking house, was the family's temple. This was not the same place as the central location where physical ceremonies took place. This was the guardian of the family, where offerings were placed and the family gods were given their prayers.

You can see the yellow and red flower blossoms at the top center of the altar and the little basket of offerings at the base. There is no other decoration, but the ground around the altar is made of clean pebbles with a border of trees. Here, the priests would come to select the names of the babies born into the family. Wayan told us that the brides would take the names of their husbands' clans and that children were named 12 days after birth. The naming system goes as follows: a priest comes after 12 days and places cards with the letters of the alphabet down in a North, East, South, West arrangement. Then, in a prayer he chooses one compass point. (Wayan said, "We don't know how he makes his choice.") The chosen letter becomes the first letter of the child's first name. The process is repeated for the second name. There are two other names for the child. The clan name of the father is given to the baby. And, each child gets a birth order number for his name. So, you can say, "I am Number Two." The final name will be the first and second names of the child and the birth order and the clan name. Where this gets complicated is when a child is born to royalty and then the laying down of the alphabet cards is a huge ceremony that lasts all day and the final name is very, very long.

  Here is the chicken "coop" in the farm. It was placed in the far corner at the intersection of North and West, at the exact opposite corner from Mr. Piggy and to the left of the shrine. The chickens are not allowed to roam freely around the compound, but the baskets are moved to different locations as needed for feeding or collecting eggs.

This is Judy standing on the Eastern wall of the compound, with Wayan behind her and Mr. Piggy on her left in his pen. The farm tour was over and we headed back to the van. As we drove, I got the crazy idea to tell Wayan and the driver the story of Bacchus and the bacchanalian rites. I told the story and with a loud deep voice, said, "I Am The King" relating how the king refused to accept the power of the god. And when the queen kills her son and shows the king his head saying, "I have killed a bear, look at the head." I said the god spoke to the king and said, "You may be the king, but I am the god." The driver and Wayan LOVED the story and the driver said, "Baba (me, I guess, Father), now I will sleep tonight with your story." It was going to be his bedtime story. All during the rest of the day (and, in fact, the next day), the driver would say in a deep voice, "I am the King." and Wayan would answer, "But I am a god." They would both laugh.

After we left the farm, we drove to visit the first temple of the tour. As we drove through a village, a band and a parade of people stopped the van. They were carrying gifts to the village temple gods. As cars, trucks and hundreds of motorbikes went by slowly, the people marched to the tinkle of bells and the beat of drums. Wayan told us that it was very important in each village to keep a vibrant temple life, to give the village good karma. Decisions about who would be the village headman or who would buy or sell land were decided in the village temple by the people.

 

 

We saw three women carrying large golden towers about one meter tall on their heads. You can see one of them in the photo. These were gold with red flowered altar pieces. They were walking along the side of the road, not minding the dust, noise or traffic. They were balancing the large object "since they were girls" Wayan told us. Wayan also explained about the roofs of the houses: "Coconut fibers last between 50-80 years, but thatch only lasts the most to 40 years."

Next, we drove to the Tanah Lot temple, one of the holiest temples in Bali. It is built on a rock, which is isolated by high tide from the land. The entrance to the grounds has a huge gate (like the one at the farm house, but, of course, immense). Once inside the temple, you walk to the edge of the cliff to see the thunderous waves (loved by surfers) and the temple itself.

 You can see the side gateways and the four steps leading into the temple grounds. These double entrances and the high and low statues allow for the two elements of life (good and evil) to enter. Since the Balinese believe that every person and ALL life contain opposites, they provide for all possibilities. The several tiers of the gate show that it is a holy place, and once inside you must deport yourself in a respectful manner.

There, off in the waves, is the temple itself. The people are standing on the wall of the viewing platform. No one is allowed to enter the temple, even at low tide.

This is the view of the rocks on the other side of the bay. The sea has eaten a lovely tunnel and the little shrine at the end of the causeway is open for worship and meditation. Surfers paddle out and ride the big waves into the beach on the left of the shrine.

Here is Judy standing behind a bench right at the edge of the cliff. She was brave to stand there. Behind her head, you can see the people at the edge of the sea, and the Temple on the Island. And, you can see the large waves coming across the Indian Ocean. This is the area where the large tsunami hit some years ago. Clear blue sky, with clouds over the horizon, calm seas, and almost no wind: the result: HOT!

We left this lovely spot and drove to the second temple. Since the roads are definitely NOT labeled, I asked the guide what people did if they rented a car. He laughed, "They get lost." We drove to Pura Taman Ayun, a lovely sanctuary surrounded by a moat. This is a very sacred place and only priests are allowed inside the gates. You can walk all around the wall and see the many temples inside, especially the multi-tiered royal temple. But, you must be "pure" before you are allowed onto the grounds.

 But once inside, you are still outside the walled temple area. The walkway to the temple goes through a garden where the people begin to move and speak quietly. We saw a group of employees of a large insurance company on an outing designed to build team spirit. They were carrying baskets with fruit on their heads to run a relay race.

These girls are participating in the relay face. They are wearing identical "company logo" tee shirts. You can see how perfectly maintained the garden is.

 This is a photo of one of the temple shrines inside the courtyard. It is completely open and the people sit under the roof to have the ceremony. Through the pillars, you can see four smaller temples, but these have five towers, which make them part of the royalty.

You can see temples with seven towers, which is from the Kings' family. The intricate carving on the temple nearest to you with the altar behind it so this to be the temple of a rich landowner.

Here is Richard leaning against the outer wall of the temple complex, looking over his shoulder alls the way to the entrance at the other end. Also, there are two offering baskets on the wall on the inside wall of the temple grounds. the courtyard consists of black lava stones carefully swept every day to keep them simple and elegant.

You have a clear view of the long central aisle. The towers on the left have 11 "roofs" which mean they were built for very important rulers of Bali. And there is a frog on the grass, a symbol of health and well-being.

Wayan asked us if we would like to visit a coffee plantation and herb farm before we made our last visit on the temple tour. And we agreed.

 This is the grandmother and granddaugther at the Tegal Sari Agro Wisata (farm) in Tabanan. The family grows several kinds of fruit trees and herbs as well as three or four kinds of coffee. They have a sampling table and they make the coffee for you. It doesn't taste like "normal" coffee because the beans are different, and some are aromatic. We bought a package of Cocoa and several carved wooden spoons and cups. And, we spent RPH 290,000 ($29). They were selling things like Lemon Grass Tea, Rad Ginger, Vanilla, Cocoa with Cinnamon, Silver Clove, Tiger Balm and Gingseng Coffee.

 This is the view from the road of the coffee farm. I think the lake is behind the last row of trees.

 Another view of the hills around the coffee farm.

The last temple visit of the day was to Lake Bratan, to tour the temple  called Pura Ulun Danu Bratan, honoring Dewi Danau, the goddess of the lake. It was getting on in the day, a bit after noon and we had spent at least two hours in the van going from the hotel to both temples. Wayan asked us if we could wait for lunch after the visit to lake and we agreed. At least it would be cooler by the water.

 The temple on the lake has 10 levels on the tower, which means that it is a very important royal temple. The weather was cool and since the sky was so cloudy, we anticipated rain, which did not occur. The lake is surrounded by the heavily forested Bali hills so the weather is unique to each area.

 In this close up you can see the little gate on the right of the temple. And the two large beasts on the right are frogs, which are considered holy guards by the Balinese.

 These smaller temples are on the land in front of the temple on the lake. The yellow and white "aprons" are always used to dress the temples or holy figures. The large gate on the left also has the yellow and white cloths to dress them.

The "happy" frog guards the point of land closest to the bank of the lake. One of the most interesting parts of the visit was the "interviews" by university students. We were approached several times by students who began by saying, "May I ask you a question?" And then it would begin: "Where are you from?" "What do you do?" "Do you like Bali?" Judy would be nabbed as she walked along ahead of me (I was already trapped by students). Or, we both would end up in a circle of questioners. Most of them spoke good English, but had had little practice. It was fun. We would tell them: "We come from Miami, in Florida." They would ask, "In America?"

 This is one of the largest groups to interview us. The four girls were bubbly and full of giggles. They are wearing the blue and white shawls of their school. The man with the head covering is their English teacher. He was very excited to have his students talk with us. And he told us, "I want to visit America. Especially to Indian Polees." We had no idea what he was talking about. I asked Judy, "What is he saying?" She didn't know. We asked him a couple of times, "What do you mean? What place?" And he would repeat, "Indian Polees." Finally, we understood that he meant Indianapolis, Indiana. But, he had placed the EmPHAsis On The Wrong SylLAble.  When I told them that I had been a theater teacher, they asked me to sing for them.  The boy said, "You must have a noble voice." I think I sang Why Did The Kids Stick Beans In Their Ears

We got the email addresses (and I wrote to them) from the teacher herlambangL@yahoo.co.id. And from the girl with the Garfield shirt: anna.yantri@gmail.com. We spent a good hour at this location and then Wayan said that we had to leave in order to get a lunch stop.

After about 20 minutes, we stopped at another "tourist" restaurant and had a good lunch. It was now about 3 in the afternoon and we headed back to the hotel. Michael had requested a real Indonesian razor and shaving cream for his collection and the driver told us that his father had a very old one at home and he would ask if he could bring it to us the next day.

We got back to the hotel quite tired and it was almost getting dark, but we walked down the side of the road to a supermarket that was 15 minutes down the hill from the hotel. I had thought it would be a tiny local supermarket, but when we walked inside, it knocked us over. It was HUGE. There were pretty girls offering candies to eat, or things to demonstrate. Aisle after aisle of home goods, foods, clothing, watches and shoes. It had everything under the sun. All we wanted was to change money in an ATM but once we saw the market, we went inside. The ATM machines were lined up outside the door like telephone booths, four or five in a row. It was cute.

We looked for shaving cream or razors for Michael, but they only had Gillettes. On the other hand, there were many pretty gift soaps, wrapped in Indonesian paper. We chose several and brought them to one of the girls who told us, "Take them to THAT counter, please." After walking around and deciding not to buy potato chips, we went to check out. The check out lady had to walk to the soap counter and get our packages. It was just plain fun. Back to the hotel as the sun was going down. In fact, in the hotel, it got dark quite early in the mountains in Bali. We had eaten a sort of big lunch and weren't hungry.

When we got back to the room, we cleaned up and since we were going early for the cooking lesson the next morning, we sat around the room reading the program notes from Asian Trails. Somewhere, hidden in all the words, there was a note that we would be "given" a dinner at the hotel, but we didn't think about it. Anyway, we went up to the dining room balcony and the waitress came over and said, "You are from Villa 103?" We said yes and she gave us a prepared menu. What???? It must be the meal we had been offered as part of the tour.

The menu said " Indonesian Set Dinner." My god, we were going to be stuffed again and all we wanted was something small. Too bad for us. The STARTERS were LUMPIA AND UDAN GARING. These are Golden Crispy Chicken and Vegetables Spring Roll with a Sweet-Sour Sauce AND Crispy Battered Tiger Prawn Tail with Orange-Sweet Chile Dipping With Atjar. The little appetizer plate was beautiful with the food placed perfectly. It was not too much. And it was delicious.

For the MAIN COURSES were IGA KAMBING PANGGANG, SATE LILIT, BABI KECAP. By this time, our mouths were watering. I think I had Bloody Mary to drink. This food is Char-grill Australian Lamb Rack with Sambal Matah,  Char-grill Spicy Balinese Minced Fish Sate, Stir-fry Pork Loin Strips in a Fresh Ginger-Soy Sauce. Served with Steamed Turmeric Yellow Rice Cake and Stir-fry Asian Vegetables. Three kinds of meat (and shrimp). Again, a perfect portion, very colorful on the plate. Of course, by this time, we were just plain enjoying the whole experience.

DESSERT was ONDE-ONCE, COKELOT DAN ES KRIM PANILA, which is Javanese Chocolate Truffle With Vanilla Ice Cream on a Chocolate Basket. That's it: we are dead before the race begins!

There was a young couple eating at the next table. We were the only ones at dinner. Of course, we spoke with them. They came from Belgium and were on their honeymoon. "We got married last Saturday." We told them we were married 50 years and they congratulated us. They were Moslims.

At the end of the night, after the full day of touring, a lunch AND a dinner, Judy hits the sack. The day is over and it is 10 o'clock. We will never stay awake until midnight.

Bali, Ubud at night the first day.

We had tickets for the CAK or KECAK dance this evening. This is the famous "monkey dance" of Bali which originated from the ancient sacred Sanghyang dance. Scenes from the Ramayana have been added, but the KECAK dance is only performed in Bali. We were excited to see it performed. We have been to classical Greek theater in ancient theaters and loved going to see theater in each country.

The KECAK dance company consists in Ubud of 100 local men as a chorus and several actors portraying the Monkey King Sugriwa, the Demon King Rahawana, the Princess Sita, Meganada (Rahawana's son)and, of course, Prince Rama (the hero).

It is very hard in words to describe the emotion of the music of this dance, which is chanted by up to 100 men (the monkey army) in a "Cak-Ke-Cak" hypnotic rhythm. Here is a UTube site that may give you the idea of the sound: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGXcnWUqV-Y&feature=endscreen&NR=1. The story of the rescue of Rama's wife, Princess Sita comes to Bali from the ancient Indian epic tale, the Ramayana. There are 5 acts to the Cecak dance, showing the kidnapping by Rahwana, her rescue through the aid of the White Monkey King. There is an exciting battle between Sugriwa (the Monkey King) and Meganada, the son of the Demon King. All ends well with Rama's victory and his reuniting with Princess Sita, shown in this photo before the performance.

We were among the very few non-Indonesians at the show. There was a family sitting next to us, with a father, mother, two sons and another man, maybe an uncle. Right away, the boy asked if we could take a photo with him and when we said okay, the whole family began to click away. And so did other people. Everyone wanted a photo of me and Judy. This is the boy next to us, with his family in the background.

The male chorus was about 50 men, and Wayan said that they were farmers and shopkeepers, not professional dancers. They were bare-chested and wearing black and white checkerboard sarongs. They chanted Ke Chak Chak Chak Ke in a hypnotic way, swaying and waving their hands up and sideways in unison. The sound was a sort of click/clack and very strong. There was a leader who shouted out a single word now and then and they would pause, lean back and then start again, maybe in another direction They swayed, stood, sat, lay back on each other like a group of children in a school playground. They carried a child high in their hands as they circled the stage. In their religion, a virgin girl is considered sacred. In fact, Wayan told us that if a girl got pregnant outside of marriage, she was refused entrance to a temple, so she was cut off from the village religious life: quite a harsh punishment! The men sang loudly and beautifully and it was very moving because it was a strong sound and you could see the trance taking over the actors as the moved, sang, chanted and waved their arms. Unlike a Greek chorus, this was not a commentary on the action, it was the religious embodiment of the action.

At the end of the dance, we were driven back to the hotel and had a late dinner. I had a strawberry daiquari and Judy had a tonic. We ate Mie Goreng and Nasi Goreng and got back to our room at 9:15. TIRED!! What a day! Very busy in fact, even though we had time in the van to rest between shops and took a nap. We hadn't caught up on the lack of sleep from the long flight. We took showers and fell asleep. Wayan was coming at 8:30 in the morning to take us on the Temple Tour. This has been a fantastic first day of our Indonesian holiday. Thank you, Asian Trails Tours!

UBUD, the first morning in Bali

The guide Wayan was coming at about 9 this morning, so we got up and showered and went up for breakfast in the dining area at the top of the hotel. This is the view from our table. We were not used to the lushness of the jungle yet. But the early morning mist was still over the distant hills. You can see the swimming pool below us. The early morning was very quiet except for a few birds whistling in the trees. There was almost no wind but it was cool before the sun got high in the sky. It is very green in the jungle except for the bright red or white flowers that appear now and then. I could tell that, in the olden days, people from one valley would NEVER come into contact with villagers from the next valley. The hills are too steep and the jungle too dense. Maybe you can see the smoke of another fire if you climb a high tree, but to travel there, I would think, is impossible. We didn't know anything about jungles but now, in the morning of our first day in Bali, we loved the colors, the trees, the quiet, the birds' singing, the coolness, the distance of the next hills, the feeling of "a different world."

We went back to our room to collect our backpacks and brush our teeth. We took a couple of moments just to enjoy Villa 103 before we set off for the day tour. This is the front door raised entrance patio with a couch and table and double chair. You can see the roof of Villa 102 at the left side. You were supposed to leave your shoes outside the door when you entered and put on flip-flops inside. There were even two sarongs rolled up waiting for us to wear inside.

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Wayan and the driver picked us up at nine and we were off for the first day of touring. This was call the "Cultural Tour" with visits to Tohpati, "known for its batik", Celuk, the "center of exquisite silver works", and Mas "for fine woodcarvings. The day would be topped off with a visit to the Agung Rai Museum of Art which "has an extensive collection of paintings by Balinese and Indonesian artists in classical Balinese and contemporary styles." The real way to interpret this list is to say, "this is the day we take you to places where we get a commission for bringing tourists and get a cut of the proceeds." They even promise a visit to Puri Saren Agung whose royal family ruled Ubud and where "you can test your bargaining skills" at the Art Market.

Luckily, we were fresh and eager and stopped first at the silver workshop where we saw women making the jewelry and then spent one hour and a half browsing quietly with a saleslady for earrings for our daughters-in-law Rikki and Rie (and for Judy of course). The work is very delicate. They use a glue to hold tiny flower petals on a silver ball. The shop itself was huge. When the time to pay came around, the price was RPH 110,000 ($11) for all three earrings. And, guess what, we ended up paying RPH 90,000 ($9.00)

 This is the saleslady at the silver shop. Behind her you can see two women sitting at a table where they make the jewelry. Everything is very professional but with a sweet personal touch. We were beginning to learn about the Buddhist character of the people. Since Indonesia is the largest archipelago and has the largest Moslim population, Bali stands out as being 90% Buddhist. It has retained a special, quiet, personal touch, even with the horrific bombing of a tourist club by Moslim extremists some years ago. There is heavy security at all hotels and shops and schools, but on Bali you hardly notice any of it. At the Pita Maha hotel in Ubud, there were two security guards at the entrance, but they merely nodded to the van driver. In Yokyokarta, on the other hand, on Surabaya Island, the van was stopped, and the back was opened and mirrors were put under the chassis EVERY time we entered the driveway. Bali, therefore, has a much more relaxed feeling about it.

From the silver "trap" shop, we drove to a wood-working shop where we saw men sitting on their haunches carving statues.

It is always fascinating to see traditional handwork, especially with simple tools. These men are Master Carvers and get to put their names on the finished work. There are also Carvers who follow the patterns, but cannot put their names on the statues. Finally, there are young boys who do the polishing and waxing or buffing and clean up. They are not allowed to carve anything. Unfortunately, the finished items are so very specific to Hinduism or Balinese culture, that we couldn't find anything we liked well enough to buy. Furthermore, the shop was FILLED with hundreds of statues and carvings from table top items to huge garden statues. It was simply too much. They began to look like each other and we decided not to buy anything. Too bad for the guide, but on to the next stop.

We drove to another village (now this is funny, because we had no idea where we were going, and because there are NO street names or signs on the island, so all we could do is say, "Didn't we pass that house an hour ago?"). It was time to see the famous Balinese paintings. Okay, when you see one painting of elephants or gardens with princes it is very interesting. The style of the painting is very well known, you can recognize it anywhere. But, when you see a thousand paintings, large, small, in frames, out of frames, hung on the wall, leaning against the wall, they begin to look alike. Even when Judy found one she really liked, the painting salesman said, "Oh, you have a good eye. This is by the Master Dasarata, probably one of the most famous of all Balinese painters. He died a few years ago, but there are his students continuing his work. This painting shows the struggle of Prince Rama with the Demon King Rahwana. It is quite lovely. What do you think?" Judy thought it was "quite lovely" but much too large to carry on the plane. "We can mail it to you, of course. Where do you live?" "We live in Miami, USA." "No problem." I walked over to see what was going on and Judy said, "What do you think of this?" I told that it was very pretty. "How much is it?" The price tag said about $500, which was $495 too much for us. We agreed that we didn't like it that much, in fact, we were sort of sick of the paintings. Like the wood carving, this was overkill. Back to Wayan, "Let's go. We've seen enough, thank you."

And, so off to the final (we hoped ) shop. Batik. Wayan brought us to a very large store, a sort of warehouse where products made in Batik were sold. First, they showed us batik being made and we were amazed at the tedious process using hot wax to make the design. Then, we went into the store: Sari Amerta, address: Batubulan, Gianyar-Bali. See, no street name, just a village and a neighborhood. We bought several things there after spending almost one hour looking around. We bought lovely batik address books, and a tablecloth and shirts for Michael and Peter.

This is the shirt we bought for Peter. It is amazing that this must be done by the lost wax system, very time consuming. But, ALL the men in Bali wear these shirts (really, all of them) and many with a sarong instead of pants. It is definitely not the sort of shirts that Michael and Peter wear on a normal basis, but it is well made and has an interesting pattern. And, of course, it is absolutely typical of men's fashions in Bali.

How is Batik made? For the shirts, a system of Printed Batik is used. Basic lines are printed with wax on both sides. The parts that must remain white are covered. The basic colors are painted on. As each color is added, the other parts are covered, one after the other. The wax is washed off from each of the parts as it is needed to be painted. Finally, the last color is painted on. When all the colors and patterns are finished, the cloth is boiled to remove all the remaining wax. This is a time consuming and labor intensive operation, but quite a bit simpler than the batik that is completely done by hand for individual pieces.

When I went to pay, the price was RPH 184,000 ($18) and I said, "154,000". The cashier said, "No bargaining here." Wayan said, "No bargaining here." I laughed and said, "154,000". They both laughed and said, "NO." I handed my credit card to the girl, but didn't let go of it and said, "154,000". Now everyone laughed. "No bargaining," she said again. I asked, "How much is it?" And she said, "184000" and I said, "Oh, I didn't hear you, I thought you said 154,000." She laughed and said, "184,000." "Good," I said, "So you mean 154,000, right?" Again, laughs everywhere. This went on back and forth a couple of times, and of course, in high humor, laughs everywhere, I paid 184,000. The Balinese people have such a relaxed, good sense of humor.

The shopping was over. Thank god it was not the high tourist season, so we were basically the only ones in the stores. Judy asked a man from New Zealand if she could try one of the shirts on  him to see if the size was right. Remember, the people on Bali are much smaller than Europeans.  So, we knew that the shirts would fit our sons.

After this, Wayan took us to a real Indonesian roadside restaurant for lunch. It was obviously a tourist place, since there were several busses parked there and many vans with people like us on tours. We got a table right overlooking the rice field. It was a buffet (like Mirasa in the Hague) and we got 3 kinds of sate (chicken, shrimp and beef), a large beer for me, tchap tchoy, white rice and two small loempias. It wasn't the best Indonesian food we had ever eaten, since it was prepared early in the morning for the rush of tourists, it was kind of bland and overcooked, but, anyway, the view was great and it was Indonesian food, which we love.

We finished lunch and had to stop at an ATM machine for cash. We took out 2 Million Rupiah, which is $200, laughing that we were millionaires. We returned to the hotel at 3:15 and immediately changed into swim suits for a dip in the pool. Wayan was returning at 5:30 to take us to the theater, so we needed time to take a nap also. The pool was already in the afternoon shadows and the water was cool, so only I jumped in for a fast dip. Then, back to Villa 103 for a shower and a nap. We zonked out from 4:30 to 5:30 and got up just in time to stagger to the reception area to meet Wayan, who was, of course, early.

We Arrive At Last in Bali

We had 2 hours to wait for the flight to Bali. the Singapore Airport is very modern with all the right shops. Quiet and peaceful. Almost empty of human life. The flight was called. A BIG plane for a simple 2 and 1//2 hour flight. I sat next to two 25 year old English girls. One is a physical therapist's assistant. She is taking a 3 year course to become a licensed physio. the other is the manager of a shelter for homeless male addicts. They look SO young and plain and innocent and sweet. BUT, the LOVE to travel. They walked six months in East Africa. They just fly in somewhere and then hoof it around. They have never been scared. "Somethings I just won't eat--like cow's tongue." Nothing frightens them. "It is how you treat people, with respect." they are today's hippies, I guess. They just decide to go somewhere and then go.

For dinner, I had a steamed fish and boiled potatoes with beans and carrots and a roll and salad of tuna fish and a dish of chocolate chip ice cream. It was a full plane--full of happy tourists.

Then, we landed. the airport was PACKED!! It was noisy. It is the EAST!!! (reminded us of landing in New Delhi at 4 in the morning). Maybe 2,000 tourists in 10 lines for the 'Visa Payment". It costs $25 per person and takes 3 minutes. But, you have to shuffle forward in the huge lines. then, off with the receipt to the actual Visa Station. Another long line with customs officers. "In a frenzy, you come by individuals," a man said to us. The man looks at your passport photo and then at you. He even made Judy take off her glasses. Stamp, stamp. And out to the baggage claim. A mad house. And our two suitcases were there!! Wonderful, a happy feeling. All the way from Miami and here is noisy Indonesia. All the way with no problem. Now, with the two bags, our two backpacks, Judy's purse, out of "nothing to declare" into the madhouse. Still just a noisy busy Eastern airport I guess. We saw a sing "Money Changer" and there was a pretty lady beckoning to us. "Come here. Change money." We decided to change $100 just to start. There were, in fact, two booths and two ladies waving at us, smiling. We chose one (for her smile). $100 equals 1 million Rupiah. So, 50,000 Rupiah is $5.00. With the cash, bags, and backpacks, out to door into......WOW!! WOW!!!

Delhi, Tblissi--wild, hot, noisy, crowded: shouting people. Masses of people all shouting and pushing. A hundred men with signs--hand printed "Schmerzer" "Hotel Babi Pangang" "Rudolf". No one for us. I stayed with the bags and Judy started looking, walking back and forth reading the signs. hoping that our guide was there. She disappeared in the masses. And then, I saw a large professionally printed sign: "KENSINGTON TOURS--MR. FREEDBERG". I called for Judy and we stepped "over the line" to meet a man dressed in a traditional sarong, with his hands clasped in the Indian Hindu palms together welcome sign. And a bow. "Mr. Freedberg, Mrs. Freedberg, My name is Wayan (something very quiet). Please come with me." He took Judy's bag and we three trudged off in the madness of the hot, dusty, NOISY crowds. We got to the parking lot which was a honking madhouse. Policemen blowing whistles and no one listening to them was the music. There, incredibly, AT THE FRONT OF THE CROWD OF CARS AND VANS, was our van and driver In go the bags and we are given fresh water bottles. "It will be a drive one and a half hours to your hotel." Okay, no problem. But just to get out of the parking lot, to get out of the Airport driveway, to get on the main street with honking and loads of motorbikes, was a feat of driving. It was so exciting. Traffic in and out. Zipping around. Like every spy movie.

The ride out of the town was city traffic and then, suddenly, 45 minutes up and down tiny mountain roads, with stopping frequently for trucks or busses or motor bikes. DARK!!! The road was lined with local cafes and shops of all kinds, batteries, drink shops, pharmacy, kids hanging out.

We drove up and up a winding country road to the city of Ubud. The guide told the driver where to turn because there were NO signs, not even street names and we almost got lost. Suddenly, around the corner, the Pita Maha Hotel. Everyone started bowing to us: the doormen, the clerk and the security guard. We tipped $10 to the guide and the driver, and were told they would pick us up at 8 in the morning.

We checked in to Villa 103 (our own villa no less) and followed the clerk who had a man carry our bags ahead of us. We were tired but laughed out loud with joy when the clerk gave us a tour of the villa. Only photos can paint the correct picture. This is the photo of Judy waiting for the clerk to take us to our villa, in the main outdoor lobby of the hotel.

 The room was HUGE with a very high vaulted ceiling and a mosquito net over the bed. There was an outside lounge with a couch and a frog statue (we learned that frog statues were everywhere in Bali). There was a step-down living room with a couch and a chair and double doors out to the side patio. The bathroom was a step-down for the toilet and there was a large double closet for our clothing. AND, to add to it all, there was an outside shower and bathtub! After the long, long flight from Miami, this was a treat, a special room all for us.

This is the bed, strewn with rose petals in a pattern (square - the traditional Bali pattern for good health and a full rose in the center).We were exhausted but elated and knew that the driver would be there early in the morning, so we decided to take showers and hit the sack. The air in the mountains was cool, but pleasant, and the hotel had provided large towels and bathrobes for us. I took the first shower and it was heaven on earth. The air was so muggy, even though it was cool, that we knew the towels would dry by morning, but so what!

The shower was perfect. We jumped into bed at 11:00 and O U T! A great bed! I couldn't read even a single page. Bali!

Heathrow to Bali, second day of the trip.

We had arrived early in the morning at Heathrow after a sort of easy flight from Miami on Virgin Atlantic. The menu on the flight was: "To Begin Your Meal" Caesar salad with romaine lettuce and Parmesan cheese and croutons. In other words: a salad. "Your Choice of Main Meal with Fresh Bread" Braised beef with green beans, carrots and mashed potato OR Chicken forma with a mixed basmati rice and lentil dal OR Penne pasta in a creamy spinach sauce with hard Italian cheese. In other words: beef or chicken or pasta. And for "Dessert" Chocolate pudding served with (guess what) tea or hot chocolate. AND...to top it off: "Before We Land" Chilled Orange juice, bagel with cream cheese breakfast cereal bar served with tea or coffee. Or, Jew food from NYC. When we hit Heathrow it was so early in the morning that we waited many hours before heading into the city to meet Richard Eisermann for lunch.

Now, we were back at Heathrow for the LONG flight to Bali, via Singapore. It was 4 in the afternoon and we were feeling the effects of NO sleep since we left Miami. Of course, Judy had slept a bit on the plane, longer than I, but still, we felt tired after the walk in London. Our flight was Singapore Airlines # 319 departing at 6:30. Our luggage had been checked through to Bali (we hoped) and all we had was our backpacks with a change of clothes. We had decided to clean up in Heathrow for the next part of the flight, you know, shave and wash for me, and change of underwear. We had heard wonderful reports of the service on Singapore Airlines and were looking forward to a pleasant flight.

The flight was called for 12 hours and 50 minutes, or 13 hours! This was no fun. My cardiologist had recommended that I take an extra baby aspirin before the flight along with my usual medicine, "Just to keep your blood a bit thin while you are sitting for so long." He also said that I should try to walk around as much as I could.

Right away on the airplane we noticed a BIG difference with other airlines. The stewardesses were dressed in traditional Asian dresses and bowed to every passenger as they entered. They helped us find our seats (they WALKED us to the right seats), made sure we were comfortable, helped us put our bags up in the luggage holds and wished us a good flight. They did all this in an effortless way that we later learned was completely typical of the people in Indonesia.

Here is the opening statement on the Singapore menu booklet: "Welcome Aboard Singapore Airlines. As you settle back to enjoy your flight, we are please to offer World Gourmet Cuisine, a sumptuous selection of dishes created under the guidance of our own chefs. Using fine quality produce, the menu features authentic Asian flavours derived from traditional recipes, as well as Western cuisine with an inspired, modern touch. To further delight the palate, complement your meal with a choice of fine red or white wines carefully selected by our esteemed Wine Consultants. Bon Appetit!" WOW! It his only economy class? AND the seats were large, wide and comfortable, with foot rests and large arms, AND padded head rests that folded out to embrace your head. All that AND lovely bowing ladies in red sarongs with huge smiles and you have the essence of Singapore Airlines.

This is the dinner menu London to Singapore: Appetiser: Salmon Quiche. Main courses: Shepherd's Pie OR Wok fried chicken with wolfberries, braised vegetables and steamed rice OR Indian prawns curry with spiced vegetables and pilaff rice. Cheese: Cheese and crackers. Dessert: Ice cream. From The Bakery: roll and butter. And to top this off: Cognac Otard VSOP or Jim Beam or Smirnoff Red Label Vodka or Cabernet Sauvigon or Chardonnay or Riesling or lots of beers and soft drinks. You could also have a Singapore Sling ("created in 1915 at the Long Bar of Singapore's Raffles Hotel and is now famous the world over. Enjoy the Singapore sling - a concoction of dry gin, Dom Benedictine, Cointreau and cherry brandy, shaken up with lime and pineapple juices and a dash of Angostura bitters and Grenadine.") My god, have it all! That's my attitude. Eat, drink and S L E E P! There was also a complete range of about 40 movies and music channels and a little travel kit with a toothbrush, toothpaste and slippers and eyeshades. Heavens to Betsy! hello to Singapore Airlines. And off we go!

Gate three is finally called, after a "please wait" notice. First time for me, LOTS of Chinese students--like a HS school trip. Lots of Moslims in the airport. Six men from India on a "small hadj" they told us. To Jerusalem, Damascus, Cairo Baghdad. They were sitting behind us in the waiting room lounge. they opened a plastic bag and the lovely smell was overwhelming. Judy said, "Did you smell that? It smells delicious." Before I could answer, one of the men turned around and said, "Would you like some? It is our Indian food: samosas and tiny dumplings." Judy got embarrassed, but we couldn't refuse. It was delicious. We wished them a good trip and off they went, full of spirit and bubbling with happiness.

On the plane, we were separated by an aisle. You know what--it is a god idea to travel separated by an aisle. Singapore Airlines is VERY comfortable! The seats are wider because the rows are three across and not four. Very big seats. We got hot towels to clean off. VERY hot, by the way.

Sleeping? Judy took a lorazapan and so slept about four hours at a stretch. I finally took one with seven hours left and got a total here and there of four hours. So, we both got at the end--maybe six hours. We will land at 2:00 with a temperature of 27 Degrees Cenlsius. Wow! The whole flight was a pleasure. A great neighbor lady--a head-hunter for the oil-gas and financial industries. I watched three movies and listened to four hours of Vivaldi to sleep. the whole flight was 12. The movies were pure action films about Navy Seals, about drugs and revenge in New Orleans, and about something else. I started to watch the Woody Allen documentary about his life, but ran out of time. He told about his Aunt, who used to say, "If you don't behave, I'll wrap you in a blanket and smother you." He said, "If I had died, the world would be poorer for fewer great one-liners." He showed his watch, "This watch was my grandfather's. He sold it to me on his death bed."

In fact, the Singapore flight was "easy". We had plenty of room to relax, to walk around and to sleep.  At night, when we both were awake, I would go to the galley and get a snack of "savoury sandwiches, roasted peanuts or fruit" and a drink, usually we would have a vodka and juice. Then, back to sleep. Before we arrived in Singapore, we got a "before touch-down" breakfast. This was now really Asia: "fruit appetizer and yoghurt; braised egg noodles with minced pork in oriental sauce and vegetables OR cheese omelette with kassler, mushrooms and potatoes and a roll with fruit preserve." I mean, after all, what a treat.

We landed at 2:20 in the afternoon in Singapore Airport. Our flight to Bali didn't leave for two hours, so we had plenty of time to wander in the airport. Well, imagine that. A lovely, modern, completely clean airport, BUT in Asia! Here is Judy with the LIVE flowers in the airport. She doesn't look tired at all after the 30 plus hours since we left Miami. A passer-by took a photo of both of us in the airport. I am wearing a new shirt because I cleaned up in the airport toilet room. I felt so much better with a shaven face, and I even took a kind of "sitz" bath in the sink and stuck my head under the faucet for a shampoo of sorts.

But, this was Asia and here is the living proof not only that we have gone into another culture, but that Singapore was a clean and "proper" county.

Enough said, right?

At 4:40 we took off in Singapore Airlines flight no. 946 for Denpasar, Bali. We would arrive finally after the long flight at 7:10 at night. What would we find? This was getting exciting! We were smiling and happy and relaxed and desperate to put our feet on real land and in Indonesia.

So It Begins

May 30. The flight to Indonesia goes from Miami to Heathrow to Singapore to Bali.

The first leg is on Virgin Atlantic Airlines departing at 6:15 at night.  We called a taxi for 3:30. It rained at the exact moment we stepped out of our building to get into the cab. The driver had a very round-a-bout way to get to the airport. He never took a main road to get to Le Jeune road to the airport. He told us, "At this time of day, the main roads are completely blocked, so I go this way." All the back streets, like a London cabbie, and still, when he finally got to the main road, the traffic was heavy. You can't win. At least the fare is set at $21 to the airport, no matter how long it takes.

At the check-in area, there was a long line of people waiting for the flight. And we noticed that most of them were Blacks, from Britain, on their way home from the famous South Beach Urban Week, devoted to Black people from all over the States. This weekend has a bad reputation because drugs and alcohol and very very scantily dressed people get a bit wild. Last year, the police shot a man to death right in the middle of a crowd of people just enjoying themselves on the busy, crowded streets. So, this year, the city officials decided to load the place up with a heavy police presence. And, it worked, the participants had a great, fun week of dancing and partying. No problems.

Except for the Face Eater. Yes, a lady riding her bike on the Rickenbacker Expressway bike path, saw two naked men wrestling each other on the sidewalk under the bridge. She saw a lot of blood and called 911 and for other people to stop and help. It was so frightening a scene. When the police arrived, they shot dead one man, who was actually eating the face of the other man. He had chewed chunks out of the face, and was ripping out one eyeball when he was killed. It seemed that a new form of Extasy had hit the streets and it "made the internal organs boil", so people felt so hot they ripped off their clothes. This crazy event made all the headlines, but it did not affect the fun at Urban week.

Judy splurged in the $10 dollar store in the airport. She got a nice black clutch purse AND a puffy neck "U" for sleeping. "So I won't drool when I fall asleep." It was also Judy who said, "I could do with a beer." Can you imagine that? We drank a bottle of Presidente each waiting in the lounge before we were called for boarding. It had NO effect on us. A LOT of black guys and girls returning after the huge Urban Week in South Beach. They all look very sharp AND tired.

At the airport, we were in between a group of four English girls and three English guys. All seven were beautiful and bubbling and laughing and tired and full of energy and exhausted all at once. I asked them how the weekend went and they all said they loved it. I asked one guy, "Can you look your mother in the eye after this week?" He laughed and said, "I hope so." The other two laughed and one said, "You don't know his mother." I asked him if his sperm count went down during the week's fun and he answered, "I haven't had time to check it out."

The four girls were absolutely gorgeous. They were sisters from Liverpool and this was their first trip to America. One said, "I am the oldest. I'm 28. She is 26. She is 24 and the youngest, over there, is 21." I looked at the youngest and she was sitting on her suitcase, dressed in a very very small and tight bright pink top that left her belly bare. She had on tight, short pants and high heeled sandals. She took off the top (right in the airport) and was wearing a small florescent orange strapless bra top. Her skin was very dark brown. Right there, in front of everybody, she began rubbing cream on her shoulders and belly and chest. She was completely unconcerned with the effect her actions were having on marriages. She had earphones in her ears and was sort of dancing to the music. Back and forth she went. On and on went the cream. Over and around the bikini top. It was breath-taking. She was so pretty and unaware of the effects she was having. People stopped talking. The three guys froze. I froze. When she was done, she slipped on the pink top and put the cream into her huge beach bag. The show was over.

Her oldest sister talked to us about their family. "My father is from Nigeria and my mother is just a normal white girl from Liverpool. Her family didn't accept him. It was the 1980's. It was difficult for them at first, but now things are a bit better." All the girls had good jobs, one in the city government of Liverpool, one was a social worker, one worked in a bank and the youngest was in university. I asked her about the Miami girls compared to her life in Liverpool. She said, "We couldn't dress like they do at home. We would stand out in the wrong way." (I wondered about her youngest sister's
recent show in the airport). "We don't wear such high heels or short skirts."

We had seats in Row 59 way in the back of the Virgin Atlantic plane. We had the aisle and middle seats and Dennis, a BIG black Bermudian was in seat A next to the window. He told us, "I am studying business in London. It is a cheap study. I plan to return to Bermuda, where I have 'a business' already." Oh yeah, I can just imagine what business it is. But he is very friendly and happy and loved the Urban week. Dennis put his head on the wall of the plane and fell asleep right then and there and that was the last we heard from him. He didn't even wake up for dinner.

The flying time to Heathrow was supposed to be about nine hours, and I didn't sleep at all. I did relax an hour or so listening to Pavlo Beznosiuk play Bach sonatas and partitas on the classical radio channel. (of course I watched three movies also!) "The notion of interpretation seems irrelevant," says Pavlo, of Bach's "famously intimate solo violin works." I had to read this comment several times before I understood it. I guess I was tired, but it still seems like whipped cream.

Dinner: Judy had beef with airplane veggies. I had pasta with green sloppy shit, but it tasted GOOD. The roll had been cut out of a cannon ball, there was REAL butter, a salad of lettuce and tomatoes with a creamy cheesey white sauce and a gloopy chocolate pudding. All DELISH!! I even ate Judy's pudding. Why not?  Judy had a gin/tonic and I had a vodka/tomato juice. The steward in Yannick. I said, "Oh, you have a Greek name." He pointed to his Asian face and made a circel with his hand around his face. "Not with this face," he told me. "I have a friend named Yannis and he is French." I met Yannick in the galley at 9 to take my pill and get a second vodka, but this time with orange juice. Why? Well, because Judy wanted orange juice. Also, I got four packets of pretzels. Judy also dipped into the huge bag of M&Ms we bought at the airport in Miami. The flight was easy, but the breakfast was YECH!!!!

As we started the final approach, Dennis woke up. Judy thinks it is 2:00 AM in Miami, but we have no idea what time it is in London. Dennis said it is 7:00 AM now. Wow, an hour early!! Oh, Yannick insisted that for take-off and landing, "Would you please put your blanket uner your seat, or in the seatback pocket." What???? I've NEVER heard of that regulation in all my years of flying. 7:05!! "Well ahead of our scheduled time," the stewardess' announcement says.

The flight from Heathrow to Singapore was supposed to depart at 6:30 that night and take 13 hours. We have hours to kill, so we will freshen up in the airport before heading into London. I headed directly for the toilet and actually shaved! I brushed my teeth and changed my underwear, so I felt quite refreshed. We go slowly before we leave the airport.

By the way, Judy decided to travel VERY modern and here she is with her new backpack in Heathrow Airport. Looks so young, eh?

Now, what to do with our day. We have to be back to check in at about 4, so that gives us a whole day to fool around in the city. We call Richard Eisermann at his work and he says that he will meet us in Covent Garden at noon for lunch. That give us a whole empty morning. No point in going into the city so early, everything will be closed. We sit down for a pot of tea and fruit biscuits and plan the day. In fact, we are tired and not looking forward to just walking around the city until lunch. Museums don't open until 10 so that means going to stores. And we both have heavyish backpacks, so that adds to our indecision. Finally, enough is enough and we take the tube to Covent Garden. But, on the way, Judy says, "Why are we going all the way to Covent Garden, it is only 8:30, so let's get off in Piccadilly Circus and at least have some excitement." So, we did. The statue of Eros was already packed with tourists taking photos.

Then we decided to walk down Piccadilly Street to the London Academy, right across the street from Fortnum and Mason's food shop. When we got there, the line for entrance (opens at 10) was already so long that we decided not to wait, but walked around the block. Finally it got hard to put one foot in front of the other, so we stopped for hot chocolate and coffee AND cakes in Paul's. We dragged this out until about 10 and it was time to just swallow our tiredness and go to Covent Garden, where at least it was fun and we could rest.

In our rambles, we stopped at a couple of Antiquarian Book Sellers on Charing Cross Road, just to settle our minds and take a bit of time. Then, slowly towards Covent Garden. On the way, we found a Waterstone's Book Store and there, I found a novel by JG Farrell, an author I recently "discovered".  He wrote the Empire Trilogy about the British Empire in Asia. The first, TROUBLES, won the Faber Memorial Prize in 1970. It is about a decaying grand hotel in Ireland during the beginnings of the Irish war for independence. As the hotel crumbles, so does the Empire. His style is very funny and precise. I found myself laughing at the details of people's clothing and speech. His second novel, THE SIEGE OF KRISHNAPUR, won the Booker Prize in 1973. This is one of the funniest books I have ever read. As the Indians rise up in rebellion, the British army and government officials try to hold on to their "old way of life." And, finally, THE SINGAPORE GRIP about the final days of the British hold on Singapore as the Japanese attacked in World War II. Farrell had polio and it left him with difficulty in walking. He loved fishing off the rocks in Ireland and was drowned there in 1979. Farrell once said, "The really interesting thing that happened in my lifetime has been the decline of the British Empire." One of the key repeated phrases describes human life: As Life Progresses, It Always Gets Worse. To read this book and visit modern Singapore would be a pleasure.


We walked from Piccadilly up Shaftesbury Avenue to Covent Garden and got there about 10:30. Still a long time to wait for Richard. The only answer: shop for shoes. And look. Not only are the shoes CUTE, but they were not expensive AND the match her pink Viennese jacket. Boy, is she happy! Now it was time to sort of find the restaurant and wait for Richard. We found it in five minutes and still had 30 minutes to wait. "Okay, we'll walk more and break in the shoes." After 20 minutes, enough was enough. We went to the restaurant which opened at noon and sat down to wait. Whew! Tired.

The restaurant is at 66 Chandos Place right off Covent Garden. It is in the basement of the building. You can see down the stairs into the tables. It is WAHACA Mexican Restaurant, the brain-child of a famous chef who loves Mexican food. There are no reservations taken because the idea is that it is a street food restaurant, a lunch place. It is up-scale of course. Here is the Wahaca welfare standards statement: "All of our meat is sourced within the UK. Our pigs are outdoor reared, our cows are grass fed and our chickens are reared to a high welfare standard. Our haddock, plaice, goujons, shrimp and scallops are Marine Stewardship Council (MSC) certified."

Of course, this is totally a load of balony. The waiters are underpaid, the clientele is inner city types. I wonder if anybody actually walks out of a restaurant if the pigs are indoor reared. I love the idea that farmers and butchers are conscious of the health of the animals they bring to the slaughterhouse, but this is a bit much (in my opinion).

The menu is divided into three sections. DRINKS AND NIBBLES (soft drinks, Mexican beers, Tequila). With Hibiscus Water first off the mark (home-made cranberry flavoured Mexican flower juice. Freshly made and served by the large glass). Or, Citrus Fizz (freshly crushed lime, torn mint and sparkling water). See, this is a street restaurant, right? Just your local drop-by and have a bite to eat kind of place. "Hey, I'll have the Hibiscus Water and my wife will try the Citrus Fizz." Or, maybe you can just shoot us between the eyes and use the blood to make a Bandito Melange (blood from a fresh head wound, cactus spines freshly cut with a touch of Tumbleweed). Yikes! But we did order the Hibiscus stuff and it was so good we had refills immediately. STREET FOOD is the second section. Tacos, Tostados, Taquitos, and Quesadillas: Chicken Guajillo, Choriso and Potato, Pork Pibil, fresh tomato salsa and chips, spicy slaw (not too hot), and a lot of others. The SIDES section has Green Rice and Sweet Potato chunks dressed with smoky caramelised with mojo de aja. And, finally, the Platos fuertes, like British Steak, the Mexican Way (I think this means it is from cattle who have been rustled across the Rio Grande) and Burritos like Slow Cooked Pork with Pink Pickled Onions and Habenero Chillies. We were hungry just looking at the menu.

Here are two of the special Wahaca spoons I removed as a souvenir. Because, in fact, the food turned out to be delicious and fun.

We had a perfect time with Richard at Wahaca. It began to fill up with the "fast office crowd" and we ate several dishes all at once. Richard talked about his business and the future and we spent a very relaxing hour or so. Finally, he had to go to a meeting and we had to get back to Heathrow, so he walked us to the Underground and off we went. Thank you, Richard, for the lunch!