I arrived in Bali and found a cab to Ubud to the Whitehouse Hotel where I began my adventure. It started to sprinkle as I headed down the puddled concrete path , serenaded by frogs. I dipped into the magnificent pool, scarcely able to see in the darkness…two guardian esque statues watched over me as I swam. I returned to the high ceilings and rather magnificent imperfections of my room. It could use some serious renovation but other than the bathroom, I did not mind. I found it fascinating. Indonesia was continuously surreal. It was a series of dream-like sequences. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. The only qualms I had were feeling like a walking dollar sign, and the strange bathrooms that I shared with bugs and mildew .
All else was bliss. Ubud has a sexy fashion unconquered by the west. A hidden jewel of class and elegance. It has dresses that fall just right. Speaking of class there are no billboards of objectified plastic women. It does not exist, not even in advertising. It was to me, integrity-wise the opposite of Los Angeles.
Ubud is also filled with art galleries that in my opinion are also cutting edge. ( I am a bit of an art nerd and I’ve done everything from the D’orsee in Paris and the Ghetty in L.A. to quaint museums in tiny southern cities. I love art).
The food was interesting in Indonesia and no one uses any type of silverware. The fish still have eye balls. I befriended a local boy and he took me to his village. This is where I witnessed the first of many Hindu ceremonies. Indonesian women spend a considerable amount of time , several times a day, making offerings to the gods. They typically consist of hand woven baskets of dried leaves with a tiny bit of rice and fruit and always a flower, topped with a stick of insense.
Oh the flowers! The balinese are to me, like a tribe of magical fairies when it comes to flowers. They place a petal behind the ear after praying, carefully arrange a flower at the center of the top step, sidewalks and tables. There are flowers everywhere. At my hotel a bright red flower was placed in front of my door every morning. When walking to the street I passed rice fields. In the early stages the rice fields have about 6 inches of standing water and sometimes a man in there doing something…preparing the soil perhaps? This culture works very hard. Every person I see is busy doing something. Often it is related to ceremony. They carry massive objects on tiny scooters…I even saw a television! A huge load of bamboo trees, anything goes, just get the job done! Personally, I would rent a truck. But I admire the strength.
The pool turned my hair green but I swam anyway because it is a large reason why I came to asia I came to rest, pray and swim. I found a semi-pretentious western style yoga center. But, it had one hell of a view. Open air studio with huming birds perching sporadically on bright gorgeous flowers.
I am accustomed to my favorite SF yoga teacher and thus easily annoyed by anyone other than him. The airy constant chatter of an otherwise lovely chic teacher in Ubud grated on my nerves. I just wanted to do yoga, I don’t need a stream of spiritual philosophical banter while I do warrior 3. But, it was fine.
My 2nd class was acro-yoga. You partner up and fly! The verbose girl was assisting so she much more subdued in that workshop. ( Funny insult coming from me, but still thank god ). It was primarily led by possibly the hottest man I have ever seen. He is venezualan and I was not alone in this opinion. I did not speak to him other than “Namaste”. I am not here for men. Quite the contrare.
I made a female friend from Israel. Her name is Shera. I don’t typcially bond abrubtly with women but she was exceptional. We spent a lot of time together and I loved the company. Asian people are shocked at how I can dare to travel alone. I can’t count how many times I was asked in broken english “ You only one? Ohhhh”. Sometimes it is followed with “ so brave’’ other times they just feel sad. One guy explained it ;“ In my country if no married at 25 year woman no lucky”. I replied with “ oh, in my country I am very lucky. I am free”. But yes I confess I have had moments of lonely on this adventure. But not too many. I think of all of those past lovers, mainly the last one. I try to just let it all go and be here now. To check out strangers and keep my cool. It’ll happen eventually wether I can make sense of the past or not. While I do still try to I am determined not to let it consume me. I love that last one but it’s a real hat trick to trust him. I just forgive, forgive , forgive and release.
Meanwhile I truly do like my own company and I am surely capable of entertaining myself in various strange ways.
I met a very sexy indonesian singer chic who invited me to accompany her on stage. She invited me to sing because she overheard me singing to myself. This was a closed gig, not a karaoke bar so it was quite an honor. I’m still very shy about singing btu I love to do it and the audience responded well. An australian tourist said I made her night. I blushed and almost cried. I stared and the ground and mumbled “ uhm..thanks’’.
I found jazz music and danced and danced and danced. I left ubud and went to the Brahmavihara Temple. It changed my life. The Vipassana ) 7 day silent meditation retreat) effected me in a profound, undeniable and unforgettable way.
I came with the intention of greater confidence through meditation. I left with that and so much more. I faced obstacles and felt great healing and peace. Sayadaw was our teacher, our guiding monk. He was a wise, gentle and compassionate guide. I spent a considerable amount of time meditating in a treehouse. I awoke to the 4 am gong and did a small amount of yoga before heading to the main temple. A few days into the meditation while in a session guided by Sayadaw, I observed my greatest fear.Upon arrival that day small birds were circling in seemingly erratic patterns above the temple and occasionally flying threw the building. Something it strong here, I thought. I asked to access this energy shortly before my epiphany.
The tears flowed uncontrollably and effortlessly. I maintained and regained composure several times. “Sit with it”….that’s what we were taught… “ observe it”. I was embarrassed. Sniffling, surrounded by silent meditating yogis. I closed my eyes, just breathe…just breathe…I wanted to run..just breathe..i opened my eyes and the monk was staring at me…his eyes filled with compassion and knowing. His compassion was the last straw it overwhelmed me. I fled the temple. I saw a stone behind a bush. It could have been a tombstone, a place of offering. I don’t know. I only know I needed to collapse there…to hide…to release…to cry.
I calmned myself. I held my knees close to my chest. I suddenly needed ‘my tree’.
“my tree’’ is my favorite spot to meditate. Though we aren’t supposed to ‘own’ anything. J I climbed into the tree and encased myself in the white netting. I felt safe. A cacoon-suspended above ground. I felt love for myself. I stayed safely wrapped in my meditative cacoon until I felt the burning desire to sing. As it is a silent retreat I had to choose the most private discreet place I could find. I found a semi-private corner of land near my room. I got in a tiny corner facing jungle trees, leaning slightly on a stone wall. I let my voice quietly and sweetly fly. I felt release. Peace. I saw a boisterous unruly rooster and asked it “ what should I do rooster’.? It crowed loudly. “ Ok I will sing” I laughed and sing I did.
Part two will come soon. Namaste.
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