To read this blog from the beginning of my trip, please scroll to the bottom, and read the entries from the bottom up. Thanks.

Can you see the man in the white shirt tending his small patch of land?

This is grass shack where rice farmers can take a rest from the sun.

This is a platform where farmers can rest.

The many terraced rice fields, in all stages of growth and harvest.

Life moves slowly in Bali

This is a young child riding on the foot rest of a motor scooter. It is not uncommon to see three and four people on one bike.

Anik's mother works as a woodcarver. She is not the actual artist, but she has learned a particular step in the many that it takes to make an intricate woodcarving. She works at her home and brings the completed pieces in when she is finished. She is given more of the same, or taught a new step in the process of a new wood piece of artwork.

You can tell if a person has recently been to the temple to pray and bring offerings because they press some cooked rice (from their offering) to their forehead and often it still remains for a little while.

I think the people of Bali are so beautiful.

Little niches like this are common. Mosses and ferns grow easily in the tropical weather of Bali.

A woman weaving an intricate print using many different colored dyed threads.

I said good bye to the woman I met my second day here. Her name is Judy, and she comes here twice a year from Australia, where she lives with her retired husband. She works in a book store that she has sold to her son. We had some wonderful talks and she much reminds me of my Auntie Marj... Thin framed, quick smile, short white hair, open and sincere, honest and frank with her opinions. I took a photo of her and the house boy, Wayan... but my camera's battery is out, and I suppose that signals the end of my trip. I will go for a last massage at the health spa at the end of Jalan Kejang, then Anik and Nyoman pick me up in the late afternoon to bring me to Sanur. There I will pick up my much needed sandals and catch my plane home on Monday.

The gardens are so meditative here. I wander through them, sit on a bench, climb marble stairs to catch a breeze, or watch the fish in the pond. The grandfather of the current owner died years ago at age 106. He was the original owner of the land and a famous artist and teacher. His work is hung simply on the white walls of small galleries throughout the compound. I sat this morning on a bench in the gallery, looking at some penciled drawings of young men getting ready for a fire dance ceremony. The room had high ceilings and I felt so quiet inside myself, while the tinkling of a small gamelan and the birds outside filled my ears. The incense from the morning offerings drifted in through the open shutters. This is my last day here.

This morning the canel that leads to the river, looked muddy but calm. Last night, the water was pouring over the road like a waterfall, completely flooding the banks. The water soaks into the land as quickly as it falls from the sky.

The umbrella rested lazily against the porch, my sidewalk dry, air still... no signs of the havoc of last night's storm.

The sky opened up, the rain poured out. Sheets of water flowed down the street toward the river. I was leaning my head against Anik's back, as she wobbled her way on the scooter towards my bungalow. The top half of me was dry under the dripping poncho, while my feet and legs met the splashing water of the rode.

Anik dropped me off in front of a cafe across the road from where I was staying. The rain was flooding out of the sky. The street was like a wide stream, it buckled and curled over the uneven pavement. Little boats of gratitude- woven offerings with orange and pink flowers, floated past , along with plastic bottles, plastic bags, cans, bottles, cigarette butts, and newspapers. The water rose quickly above the sidewalk, capturing the trees caught in the swiftly moving mass.

I ordered a wonderful orange lentil soup and avocado salad. I ate, and I waited. The lightening flashed and the street was a silverish blue ocean for me to try to cross. I opened my umbrella while the cafe staff watched. I rolled up my pant legs and waded onto the sidewalk, the rushing water still shallow, just covering my ankles. The rain continued to plop hard and heavy on the umbrella and water fell off it in sheets, making a curtain around me.

I stepped off the curb into the current. Almost immediately my rubber sandal was swept down stream. As lightening flashed, I saw the blue shoe in silver blue water swirl once and disappear over a ledge down to the river below. I half laughed, half screamed as the thunder roared over head and the rain pounded... A plastic bag wrapped itself around my ankle, and as I stood balanced on my one sandaled foot, my umbrella waving overhead, I tried to shake the bag free... Like a soaking wet tight rope walker, I limped and slid across the flooded street, and up the hill where my dry bungalow awaited me.

You might think that all I do in Ubud is get massages... not so. Sometimes I take long baths in salted herbal water with flowers floating on the top! This I did yesterday, before spending time sitting on the floor of Anik's shop drinking Bali coffee that she ran to the next shop down to make for me. She came running back, feet wet from the pavement, with two little bags of peanuts. I had to refuse since I am worried that peanuts may have contributed to my allergic reaction the last time I stayed in Ubud... either that, or the mold. She made me a little white top while I was in Amed, so I bought that from her as well as some silk scarves. They are beautiful! I also picked up two shirts that I had made by her friend. Such wonderful workmanship... I wish I had ordered more from her. As it turns out, the seamstress I did place an order with, has closed her shop until the 12th because of a Toothfiling Ceremony in her family. Unfortunately, I leave earlier than I had told her... so I am wondering what will happen. We will see.

The place where I am staying is actually the home of an artist and an artistic family. There is incredible artwork... paintings, sculptures, drawings... to look at in a museum, just inside the gates of the family compound, off the busy street. I have met a nice older woman staying in the bungalow next to mine. We shared our breakfast and a two hour conversation this morning about our various travels. She was from Australia. She told me about a good place to eat on a little side street, and I told her about two good places to get massage. Today I will, of course, spend time with Anik and I also plan to experience a form of massage called Lelata Dhara. I can't say much now, other than it is an Ayurvedic therapeutic massage and begins with warm herbal oil rhythmically dripped onto the forehead for mental relaxation and clarity. God knows, I can always use a little clarity!

This is the cleanest and driest room I have had so far. The bungalow is very tight, and it doesn't smell wet or muggy. It feels cozy inside, though this picture makes it look rather cold and white. The bathroom is awesome... the photo is taken from inside of it. There are windows and a sliding door separating it from the room. It has an outdoor feel with a sort of skylight and walls of stone, yet it is sparkling clean with a wall-less shower, a tub (yipee!), and beautiful carved and painted shelves and hooks. It will be a nice place to come back to after a rainy walk. When I arrived it was pouring down rain, and three of the staff (all about Sam and Zoey's age) came with umbrellas to help me. I received a "welcome" fruit drink of my choice, flowers in my room, and shortly after, tea for the evening. Breakfast will be served in my room at 8:00 at my request! This is one of the places that Bruce and I have stayed before... a whopping $45 three summers ago for two people... today, $15.

Here is my new bungalow in Ubud. It is near a rushing river that makes a lot of wonderful sound. The gardens are lush, and all the paths are artistic mosaics of red, white and black stones. It is right in the middle of Ubud, an easy walk to anywhere.

As our journey continued... Iluh asked if I'd like to meet her sister. Of course I said yes, and soon we pulled over to a little warung that had a roof in front held up by two sticks. A little boy ran around on the sidewalk with a sucker sticking out of his mouth chasing a dog with a stick. A shy woman broke out in a huge tight lipped smile when we pulled up! The boy stopped and stared. We were offered cold Sprite in scratched green bottles from an old red Coca Cola cooler, each with a straw! She also set out little plastic baggies with pink and green cakes in them. When we were leaving, she gave me a huge bottle of water which I really appreciated for my next stay. We also stopped at a huge local market where I got to show off for Iluh my bargaining skills as I purchased sarongs for Zoey. "Just like I taught you!" she said. She gave me a couple more pointers, but I could tell she thought I did well. Oh... did I say I ordered shoes in Sanur? I picked out great leather and made a fantastic deal. I did this while Iluh and the driver rested in the shade. About an hour later, she came looking for me. When Iluh heard the price, she was really proud! She's a good teacher!

On our way to Sanur and then on to Ubud, I told Iluh and the driver that I'd like to buy them lunch. I had already eaten an egg sandwich I had saved from breakfast, so I encouraged them to stop at a place they'd really enjoy. Soon they both began chattering in Balinese, and the driver pulled over and did a u-turn in the road. He headed back to a small establishment on the side of a rice field. This little spot advertised: "Babi Guling".... Barbeque Pig! Mmmm! Look closely at the pig in the window. Its head is pointing to the right.

We ride past incredible scenery... down winding roads through thickly forested canyons, up steep edges of meticulously groomed rice fields, through bustling little villages with chickens and dogs and children and people sitting playing cards in the road... Iluh maneuvers the scooter at a steady 40 mph. Soon the clouds become thick and lower and a breeze comes up. People hurry along the road carrying their burdens... prized roosters in baskets balanced on a long bamboo pole, bundles of bright green leafy branches, buckets of water, armloads of banana leaves, crates of coconuts, burlap sheets with drying spices... everyone hurries to get in out of the impending downpour. Iluh and I just laugh... we don't care if we
get wet, just another rainy day in
Bali.

Balinese carwash...
All along the road coming out of Amed, you can see cars stopped, and people washing their cars in the irrigation ditch, of all purpose water...

Iluh and I hopped on the motor scooter and headed up and over the mountain to the large town of Amlapura. It was a long, and fun ride. I had hoped to find an internet that would be capable of uploading photos. We didn't find one, but we rode through wonderful little villages where people carried out their daily lives dispite the noise and traffic along the road.

For most of the way, a four foot wide irrigation type ditch lines the
road. Here is the only water supply for most of these villages. People can be seen bathing, washing clothes, washing dishes, and even urinating into it.

A pink cord snakes across the ground and winds its way up the tree and around the branch. From it hangs two sockets. Iluh reaches up to to plug in a light for Nengah just as I snap this photo. The flash goes off, Iluh screams because she thinks she has been shocked, she steps back onto Gede who is playing with his cars behind her, she falls, Nengah hears the commotion and thinks something is wrong with the electricity, and runs out to find us all laughing hysterically!

My open air shower welcomes me several times a day. The toilet and sink area are covered, as is the long bamboo towel rack. All are open to the wide sky and huge banana leaves, and the water is about 70 degrees.

I am helping with the landscaping around the back and side of the cafe. We use sticks to dig in the sandy soil. Iluh gives me cuttings that will take root and shows me where to plant. Soon the children see the pattern we are creating and help.

This is the little cafe that Nengah and Iluh have built right on the beach by their cinderblock house. The grass huts that Nengah's family and neighbors live in are to the right. The beach, which last year was still just a native Balinese village, now also has a small bungalow style hotel to the right of their cafe. It was sad to see.

This is Made and Ketut... two of the three women who massage me each day in Amed. Ketut rarely smiles very big because she is self conscious of her protruding upper tooth that hangs down a bit. Any dentist could fix it easily, but in the village where she lives, she will never see a dentist, and will continue living her life never feeling good about a big smile. Missing from this picture is the beautiful woman I called Young Ketut, who died suddenly a few months ago. They cannot afford a cremation.

The young people who work at Prema Liong are timid, yet friendly. They brought me food, and snacks, and drinks, and cleaned my room! They were as close as a ring of the bell!

I loved my little bungalow. I loved sitting on the porch reading, taking a nap on the side bed, getting my morning or evening massage in the open air on the lounge. I loved the ritual of washing clothes, and hanging them to dry... watching them move gently in the breeze, feeling them to see if they were dry yet. I loved lighting the little green insect coil with its soft spicy scent and a candle illuminate my dinner.

When I first arrived, Iluh's family came to greet me on my porch. I gave them each a gift that I had packed. I gave Gede a collection of "match box cars" to share with his little cousins. They were a big hit... especially with his dad! Nengah especially liked the SUV's! Later, Gede and his little cousins made elaborate "roads" on a pile of dirt for the cars. The played for the longest time, just making car sounds, never fighting, as they stepped over and around each other to move the cars on their roads.

This is my friend Iluh with her 8 year old son Gede, and her newly "adopted" 10 year old child, Eka. Eka's parents could not afford to send her to school, so Iluh lets Eka stay at her house on the beach during the week and she pays for her schooling and food. Both children are gentle and smart, and as adorable and loving as they look here!

When I arrived in Amed at Prema Liong, my two story bungalow was adorn with flowers. A vase carved from an unripe papaya held flowers on a little table and the sheets were pulled tight in tidy preparation for me.

I said good bye to Amed today and headed south to Sanur to have shoes made, then to Ibud. I hired a driver for all day and Iluh came with me and shared the minimal cost. We had more talking to do! I have decided to interupt my trip a week early and return home. I will recap my Amed experience with photos...

We use the word exotic to describe a place of beauty, of mystery maybe... a place that is different from that which we are comfortable, a place with hidden secrets and maybe even spiritualness. Bali has been that exotic place for me in the past... but for now, that mysterious beauty is a bit elusive.

I am, by choice and because of my friendship with Iluh and her family, spending much time in the village of Jemeluk, right on the beach. The houses are no more than single rooms made of bamboo poles and woven grasses. Smoke from the fires fills the air, and garbage is strewn along the paths that lead from house to house. A pig stands tied to a post all day. The piglets come to nurse, practically swimming in muck just to suckle.The fishing boats sit idle, while the men mend their nets and women try to sew black plastic buckets back together with fishing line.

I lay on a mattress on Iluh and Nengah's porch. Their two room house is made of cinder blocks with wooden silled glass windows which Iluh has painted with turquoise and black paint. They have, by far, the most modern home in the neighborhood. There is much jealousy. As we lay on the pillows and talk, Iluh showing me how to sms on her mobile phone, she notices something black in a nearby tree. "What's that?" she asks in a frightened voice.

I look... I see nothing. She points and sits up. "There, it is black." I look again and see nothing out of the ordinary. "It is just the tree, Iluh," I say. But she jumps up and I follow her to the tree. She sees for herself that it is just a dead part of the tree that she has not noticed before. "I thought it was black magic," she said in a hushed voice. "Many people are jealous. But the gods are good to me. I think they show me first before it can harm us."
We go back to the mattress and try to sms my friend Anik back in Ubud, as we eat mackeral and rice... vegetables and spices are not in their budget she tells me.

A few minutes later, a woman comes by and they speak for a while in balinese. Iluh unlocks her wooden door and goes inside. She comes out with some money. The woman's husband is sick and he must go to the hospital. She borrows money that maybe she can pay back in 6 months... but Iluh says she has no job. She lends the money anyway.

A little while later, I ride with her on the dark road back to Prema Liong. On a steep hill, the engine turns off... "So sorry, Jodie. We have no gas." We push the bike to the side, and enjoy the quiet and the sound of the sea below us. We are near her village temple on the cliff and the spiritualnes feels strong to me. We wait.

Soon a man comes by and stops. He is from another village,but knows Iluh, and goes to get gas. He returns and does not let her pay. Karma we both say.

I can not send photos from this internet cafe, so I will wait until I am back in Ubud to do so. I sit now in a small stall with little circulation and an engery efficient light bulb hanging from its socket, a piece of white paper folded like a cone around it... I wasn't surprised when they said I could not plug in my card reader.

Today I had a massage from Wayan, an older woman who still remembers meeting me when she and a friend gave Bruce a double massage on the beach. That lets you know how few Americans come to this side of Bali. She also shared with me the sad news that my favorite girl who came to massage had died suddenly in her sleep seven months ago! I was so shocked because this young woman named Ketut, had three children, a handicapped husband, and the most beautiful healthy smile and body that you could imagine.

I heard several accounts of how Ketut died, as I asked about her more from others. Each story was told in a whisper and as though in the strictest confidence... from anemia to black magic... one person even told me that her spirit had talked to the local healer and told him she was sad and confirmed that black magic- a spell cast by someone who was jealous of her- was the cause.

Later in the day when I was alone and watching the waves come in, I thought about Ketut and all the stories, and I felt so far from home.

I arrived safely in Amed. My bungalow was waiting with its double doors adorn with red hibiscus, the pillows on the bed with white plumeria, and the little table on the porch soon had a pot of tea for me... brought by a young woman named Made... the tray balanced on her head. Iluh came up the long rock stairway through the garden to my porch. Removing her thongs, she practically leaped up the steps of the porch into my arms. We talked like sisters until it grew dark, and I learned more than I ever could imagine that I would understand about her life, now and in the past. I put my things away in the little wooden cabinet, took a cool shower, and went to bed. I slept until the roosters crowed, and woke to see the little fishing boats coming in with their morning catch.

I leave rainy Ubud and head to Amed today.