|Do not be fooled: the highway, Ngurah|
Rai By Pass, is never this empty.
|I know, you'd think the|
rampant spelling errors
would send me into
paroxysms, but no. They're
Hotel Yani is nothing like that. You've got a clean bed, a TV with local reality/talent shows, a shower that comprises the whole of the bathroom, and they even give you two free bottles of water every day. (NOTE: Do not drink the water that comes out of the tap, anywhere in Bali. You will get used to plastic bottles as though your life depends on it, "ha ha ha.")
|Our driver has a smoke while we check out one of the more|
posh apartments Denpasar has to offer.
|The lobby to Rama Villas. They have|
a laundry service, a pool, AC in every
bedroom, and they offer massages.
|Christian, Rebecca, Chris, and Sam getting lunch.|
(We're trying to tell the waitress to hold the camera
button down instead of releasing it.)
Hardy's, a very prominent and handy store for expatriates and locals alike. On the first floor there's a discount/clearance rack for clothing, in the back there's an extensive grocery store (with two aisles labeled "expatriate needs" like we're a third gender), and the two floors above are full of all sorts of miraculous necessities and extraneous baubles.
We got lunch at Cafetaria [sic] Amsterdam--I'm trying to eat local dishes while Chris finds great comfort in Western food--and perused the crazy Asian shirts we were hoping to find. Over the next two weeks we would return to Hardy's for much of our shopping, including groceries... though it's a well-known fact it's simply much cheaper to get something to eat at a warung than to buy your own food to make at home.
I was trying to pick up some green onions to throw into our eggs and noodles but wasn't having much luck identifying anything, as the vegetables didn't look quite right and I can't read Bahasa.* A young mother next to me chuckled briefly before asking me if I needed any help. I asked her what the stalks of thing were I had in my hand.
"Oh, those are seasoning, like for curry," she said. When I asked if they could be used in eggs or noodles, she laughed and offered to cook dinner for me at her place, because "Are you cooking for yourself?" I said I was cooking with my wife and she said we could both come over. I smiled brightly and said "maybe."
The Indonesian "maybe" is a miraculous thing. To a Minnesotan, it's uncomfortable to have a complete stranger offer to make dinner for you and your company, perhaps as early as that night! But the offer isn't entirely to be taken at face value, I've been given to understand, though if I were dense enough to follow up on it, she would be gracious enough to go through with it because Balinese are a very friendly and generous people. And if I'd seen through the gesture (or hadn't) and declined, that would have been offensive. But they have this device and it's artful in its simplicity and efficacy: "maybe." With that word I thanked her for her offer and assured her (at least on a hypothetical plane) that the offer was desirable and she was a good person, yet it's a polite way to back out of such a situation.
She grinned warmly and went to retrieve her daughter and finish her shopping. When I saw her later, she grinned and waved and did not rush over to give me her address. We'd said all that needed to be said.
- warung - A food-seller, anything from a small cart with wheels to a very nice restaurant.
- jalan - Street (gang: alley)
- Bahasa - The name of the Indonesian language.