I was notified today that I got into the Coeur d’Alene Street Fair—it’ll be my first time at that one so I’m excited.  Plus, one of my sisters lives in Coeur d’Alene with her twin 9-year-olds (my nieces).  No sleeping in a tent or my van this time, thank goodness!  Here’s hoping my sister can round up some strong people to help me set up my booth—I’ll have less than four hours to get it all ready—yikes!

Click here for a list of my upcoming shows!

It’s our last full day here in Bali – definitely bittersweet.  I truly have the “Bali Brain”—don’t know what day it is, don’t care.  And I’ve been recovering from the “Bali Belly,” which many, many travelers are unfortunately familiar with.  Luckily, sweet Ayu here at Melati Cottages has been making me a special, gently rice porridge.  “Ayu” means “Firstborn,” so I am also “Ayu.”

It’s Saturday, and it’s Kuningan, the second most important day of the Balinese Hindu calendar. Balinese people again attend religious services and make offerings to the gods.  We were privileged to go to Kintamani.  At the holy spring temple Tirta Empul, at Tampaksiring, we see people fully clothed—and partially clothed, bathing in the spring, a purification ritual.

A warm sunny Sunday.  My sister Kemmie and I leave my father writing speeches at Melati, and walk to the far side of town, using Bisma Road as an alternative to the main road, to get to the Monkey Forest.  It’s a long walk, but worth it when we get there.  First thing after we pay the entry fee, I see a smallish monkey (one foot high minus the tail) run up a tourist’s leg, and grab the plastic water bottle from the crook of his arm.  The monkey hurtles off and sprints to about six feet away where he promptly unscrews the plastic top, chugs down half the water, and then tosses the bottle over his shoulder.  I swear he smirked as he sashayed away. 

The highlight of the trip (for me) was when my sister shrieked while I was putting on the sarong and sash to go inside the Monkey Forest temple.  We all looked at her—she had her hands up as one would in front of a firing squad, and an expression of astonishment and dismay on her face.  What on earth?  Then she gingerly turned sideways, her arms frozen in the air.  It was then our turn to shriek… at the monkey who was, literally, on her back.  It was gleefully clinging to her shirt.  I had an impulse to rescue her but didn’t want to startle the monkey; so I burst out laughing at the sheer incongruity of it—and the look on my sister’s face.  Suddenly the monkey jumped off and ran away.  Wow!

We eat lovely honey banana crepe-type bananas and fresh fruit in the open air eating area, full of very solid, old-wood furniture.  I see squirrels jump-sailing from giant banana tree leaf to the next, and the next.  A worker woman arrives solemnly with a two-foot by eighteen-inch round basket on her head, overladen with kitchen items and produce.  An 85-year-old European man who lives nearby is swimming laps in the pool.  Other tourists are drifting in, most from the group we call “Sufi surfers” who are attending a Sufi Yoga retreat entitled, “Sufi Soul Searching.”  There is certainly a wonderful yoga house at one end of the property—I took some pix in the early morning as rays of light filtered through, past the stone wall full of faces to scare off the bad spirits.

We went to the famous Taman Burung Bali (Bali Bird Park) where only a few of the birds were actually caged.  Astonishingly, pelicans wandered at will, a family of Crowned Cranes meandered on the grass.  The parent cranes were so regal compared to their two awkward long-legged fluffy-brown children.  We also attended a wedding reception at Ketut’s family compound.  Nasi (rice) is the Indonesian staple, and is served at every meal, and in almost every restaurant, but in a myriad of ways.  My favorite is Nasi Goreng (Fried Rice), which usually has some sort of meat such as chicken.  My father has made Nasi Goreng for us every since I can remember.

Our room at Melati Cottages is spacious and peaceful, with a moat full of blooming lotus flowers.  First thing this morning, I slipped out of the pseudo-resort grounds, and wandered nearby paths, camera in hand.  Perfect light, fresh air, quiet everywhere.  Long afternoon nap for me, and dinner at Lala Lily’s, a modest little restaurant in the rice fields, a short walk from Melati.  Some amazing bright butterflies, and red mid-size dragonflies.  A young male adult worker at Melati is wearing a Harley-emblazoned shirt as he sweeps the paths, bent over, with a three-foot broom.  My father says we won’t see any longer brooms, which blows me away.  You would think back problems would be rampant.

The best part of the plane trip was a huge selection of modern and classic movies—each seat had its own private little screen; the worst part was trying to sleep.   I did like the Taipei airport very much:  sleek and pristine.  It felt very special to be in China!  In Bali it was unbelievable hot and humid, but Ketut greeted it with a big smile.  My father first met Ketut’s father over 40 years ago at the Old Palace.  Eventually, Ketut’s father opened up Melati Cottages… and after the father died, Ketut (Fourth-born) and his family continue to operate the family business of welcoming travelers from around the world.  Where we are in Ubud, you don’t see the sun rise; the light simply gets lighter and lighter.  We’re two hours from the coast.  From the door of my house to the door of my room at Melati:  34 hours.  I’m a lifetime away.