Agung Wijaya

There was a big cremation today.

I missed it.

But first off, I have to say, that Big Made is a big fat liar.

He took me to his "studio" the other day when we went to pick up the motorbike. He had told me before he was an artist. So we entered his family compound (now I wonder if it is even his) and he said, "Do you want to see my paintings?", of course I said yes.

I was kind of impressed. There were some big pieces I didn't care too much for, but he had a few small pieces with incredible detail that I really liked. He showed me one piece and told me he did it when he was 12.

I chose a small painting in a frame and bought it, mostly because I liked it, but also because I felt sorry for him being a talented painter and being unable to exhibit his stuff on the main road because it was too expensive. At least that is what he told me.

Well, yesterday I decided to walk after dinner. I had dinner at the Dirty Duck Diner and have decided once and for all, I don't like it. The food really is not that good and they do treat me like an unwanted stepchild. Compared to my favorite haunt, The Pond, where they greet me with big smiles, know my name, give me a 10% frequent visitor discount, and let me hang out and use their wifi, the Dirty Duck Diner pretty much pretended I wasn't there. Plus it was a real scene with the men with cameras walking around taking photos. I saw one guy who had a lens that was like a foot long! Ridiculous!!

My meal at the Dirty Duck was not that filling. I got duck with sweet chili sauce and it just came with rice, so I ordered pecan pie for desert. The pie came with ice cream. Neither was that good, but I'm not one for letting pie go to waste, so I ate most of it. After that, I decided I needed to walk.

It was a nice evening and people were hanging out in front of their shops. It had been a while since I'd heard "taxi?" (since I have a motorbike now) and I was annoyed that they didn't know I had a motorbike, since everyone seems to know everything about me.

About a block from the Dirty Duck Diner I saw a shop that had paintings hanging outside. I crossed the street to look at them because they looked kind of like Big Made's paintings. I swear a few of the paintings hanging outside of this shop were the same as the ones he showed me in his studio - the little ones I liked. If they weren't the same, they were very similar.

I know that in Bali it is common for people to copy one another, so maybe, giving him the benefit of the doubt, he, like everyone else, paints pretty much the same exact thing and the test of how good they are is based on how well they can copy, but...I didn't see any works in progress, no paint, no easels, nothing that would suggest his "studio" was an actual working studio. Plus, he hangs around the hotel all day lounging like a sea lion on a pier wearing a sarong with a scarf around his head, so when does he paint? I'm highly skeptical and think I was swindled. I wanted to ask the price of one of the small paintings to see if he really ripped me off, but I decided not to. I paid $20 for it and in SF the framing alone would cost close to $100 or more, so I will just accept this purchase as one of those things that comes with an interesting story and leave it at that.

The other Made, the guy who cleans my room, has been sick for the past three weeks. I can always tell when he gets to work because he is always coughing. It's not a hacking cough, but just an occasional, but fairly regular cough. He was off yesterday and said he went to a traditional healer who did some treatment for him. He told me that some time ago he was at some ceremony and someone gave him coffee and put something in his coffee. I don't know what. Then he said when his father died, someone put something in his family temple. I think he was referring to some kind of black magic, and that is what the healer was trying to reverse. Apparently, regular doctors have not been able to help him.

Hmmm....

So there was this big cremation today (I keep wanting to spell it creamation). I missed it. I forgot it was today, because since Big Made rented me the motorbike that I thought I didn't want, he's been kind of low-key around me and he didn't remind me yesterday. So instead, after breakfast, I went to Agung Wijaya's place and made an appointment for a three-hour traditional Balinese Healing session today. Little Made told me the cremation started around 12 or 1, and my session started at 10, so I thought I would make it. Then the guy in the internet cafe told me it started at 11, and a woman on the street as I was looking for a money changer told me noon (she also tried to sell me a sarong to wear to it).

I was going to ask Agung Wijaya if I could have a two-hour session instead, but I felt in the long run a good healing session would be better for me than watching a dead body be carried through the street on its way to be burned. If I made it, I made it.

When I arrived at Agung's he also mentioned the cremation. Everyone was talking about it. I was amazed at what a talk of the town it was. He said I would be able to see it at 1.

We started with me seated on a stool with my eyes closed and hands on my knees, palms up. I was sweating profusely as it was quite warm and muggy. Also, I had walked a little to find a money changer because I was a little early. I couldn't tell if it was only sweat or if he was also sprinkling water on me, but my face was dripping.

From there, we went to his treatment room. It is nothing lavish or even anything close to being "spa-like". It's a little concrete room with one window and a massage table. It's pretty modest as far as massage spaces go, but there is something very authentic feeling about it. It is not trying to impress with views, sounds, smells or atmosphere. It is very utilitarian.

I like that he lets me keep my underwear on, but am not too fond of the sarong he then lays over me. I fixed it so it was just covering my mid section. He asked if I was hot, and I told him I was.

He then asked me how I was feeling. I told him "so-so", as I was having that same morning feeling I often have - kind of bordering on being nauseous, like I might have a meniere's attack. My ear was ringing loudly. Also my stomach has not been good, I think partly due to the antibiotics I've been taking for the ear infection I had. Generally speaking, I was a mess. If I had gone into all of the aches and pains I had, he might have thought I was a hypochondriac, so I just left it at the ear.

It was hard to explain to him because of his limited English, but it's also hard to explain to people who speak English. I think he got the gist though.

He started working on my feet first. Pressing each toe and the lines that run around the toes. I could feel the points for my ear were very tender. I think he knew it as well as he seemed to linger there a little longer. (I knew they were ear points because I saw them yesterday on a reflexology chart).

He then gave me a pretty standard shiatsu-type massage,working points without oil. He didn't do my entire body but seemed to be focusing on certain points.

He then had me get up and go back out into the reception area. He laid out a little rug and had me sit on the stool again. He came out with a little mortar and pestle and ground up some root that looked like ginger with wet, uncooked rice. I asked him if it was ginger and he said no. He gave me an Indonesian name, that didn't help me, but it must have been in the ginger family. He worked the root and rice into a milky paste and then applied it to my feet and legs.

He told me it was for balancing and straightening the feet and balancing energy. He said rice farmers use it after working in the fields all day. It seemed like a good thing for me since one of my many complaints is plantar fascists which I developed in Argentina last year. Maybe he noticed it?

Then he came out with a big plastic tub filled with leaves, some sort of seeds and hot water. He rolled up some leaves, wrung them out and wiped my back with them. He did the same several times over my back, neck and shoulders. The concoction didn't have a pleasant smell, but it wasn't bad either. It smelled like a traditional medicine.

He also rubbed my head with something green (a few pieces of it fell into my lap, so I saw it was green - maybe aloe?) and when I winced because I am tender-headed, he told me it was a sign of blocked meridians on the scalp. Hmmm....

When he was finished, he had me put my feet in the tub and he rinsed the dried rice mixture off of me.

Back into the treatment room he proceeded to give me a massage, this time with oil. At one point he came in with something he smeared on my belly. It smelled like garlic, shallots and maybe lemongrass. I felt like a pig being marinated before being put on a spit to be grilled! It felt like a good thing for my Bali belly.

The massage was both front and back, with oil, and it was very good. Only a few painful parts, but I felt very loose, very relaxed and very flexible (for the most part). I think a week of massages is bearing fruit.

He finished by doing a body scan, some reiki and then laying his hands on me in various spots. I once did a workshop of something called "jin shin-jitsu" and I think what he was doing was very similar.

When I was finished, he told me maybe I missed the cremation.

I didn't care.

I walked down the street, which was fairly deserted other than a few women sitting outside of shops and only one guy who said, "taxi?" and another who just greeted me and asked me how I was doing (with a big smile). I asked him if the cremation was finished and he said yes. I was starving at this point since it was 1 o'clock and I had had breakfast at 8, so I stopped at a restaurant right before the area where the cremation was supposed to have taken place (or at least part of the ceremony) and had a wonderful papaya lassi and nasi campur.

Sitting in the restaurant, I saw the throngs heading home. It was like they had been to a parade. There were large groups of men, all of them wearing sarongs, which seemed to be their "good" sarongs, many of them were shimmery and golden. I was surprised to see a lot of guys wearing sarongs with sneakers. I've decided that is a fashion "don't". It didn't look right, especially if they had socks on. Sarongs and sneakers - what not to wear...

Then some groups of women followed.

Everyone seemed pretty cheerful. There wasn't the somberness I associate with a funeral. It seemed like it had been a celebration and it also seemed like everyone had in some way participated. Women were carrying baskets on their heads that I assumed were full when they went, and truckloads of men went by with drums and musical instruments. I even saw one guy carrying a stick on his shoulders balancing two buckets of toys. I guess there were even vendors selling things for the kids.

I'm sorry I missed it, but in a way it seemed like the right thing to do. While I was getting massaged I was doing tonglen for my father. Tonglen is the practice of breathing in negative and breathing out positive. I imagined myself breathing in his pain, his difficulty breathing or moving about and breathing out rest, relaxation and ease.

When I think about some of the issues that my parents, or my few remaining aunts and uncles have, related to age, I think all they need is to have a week in Bali getting massages and traditional healing treatments, and they'd feel so much better. Maybe there is a way I can psychically relieve some of their pain while I am getting these amazing treatments.