We were staying in Ubud, a famous artists’ community toward the center of the island. While taking a long walk through some rice paddies just outside of town, we met a young man selling his paintings. (Seems like every man in Ubud is an artist, or a taxi driver, or both.) He had an effective pitch: “you don’t have to buy; just look and I will be happy.” So, we looked and then, of course, had to buy a small painting. After the sale, we chatted about Bush and the President-Elect. Everyone we met in Indonesia seemed pleased to talk about Obama and the fact that he had lived in Jakarta as a boy. He also tried to talk to Aaron about basketball, but that went over about as well as when he later mentioned to me that he likes guns, just like Bush does.
After a while, he told us about a waterfall just a short distance from where we stood, and said we should check it out. We figured a quick detour couldn’t hurt, and began to head in the direction he had pointed, but he offered to show us the way and so we followed. As we left the paddy fields and descended a slight hill, we passed his house, shrines to his ancestors, his angrily barking dog, and his friend’s penned cows, and entered the forest, where we were greeted by swarms of mosquitoes.
As the hill grew steeper, our new friend took my hand to help me down. Apparently, he was trying to teach by example. When Aaron did not pick up on this, he began to give Aaron explicit instructions: “take her hand now,” “put her hand on your shoulder now,” etc. At a couple of points, Aaron and I both thought I was doing just fine climbing down the hill without assistance, but our guide did not agree and shouted, “Stop!” and didn’t resume our hike until he felt Aaron was being appropriately chivalrous. I began to wonder if he thought I was a weakling who had never seen trees and mud before, but I felt a bit better when he told Aaron that his “wife” was a good hiker and that he had once brought a couple from Philadelphia to the waterfall and ended up carrying the woman down the hill on his back.
As we approached the bottom of the hill, which the artist climbs up and down every day to bathe in the waterfall, I realized that there actually wasn’t that much to see. It was a small muddy river with a small waterfall.
On the way back up, our new friend taught Aaron to grab my hips and give me a shove when we got to steep spots. The demonstration was a bit awkward (why is this stranger lifting up my shirt and grabbing my waist?), but the trick came in handy when I got lazy during subsequent walks under the hot sun in Bali.
I’m not quite sure why the artist had wanted to show us the little waterfall, and it wasn’t a question I could politely ask. I suppose he just liked talking with foreigners, like so many other friendly people we met in Bali. Whatever the reason, I was glad that on our last trip of this amazing year in Asia, we had yet another experience where I found myself thinking, “I’m so glad we lucked into this ridiculous situation.”
Here are a few shots from our trip:
Rice.
Another unexpected volunteer guide shows Aaron, sporting a loaner sarong, around carvings destroyed 80 years ago by an earthquake.
Monkeys licking bugs off of a wall.
Fruitstand at Mount Batur.
Fountains at the Spring Temple.
Worshipers at the Spring Temple.
Butterfly, chicken, rice paddy.
