Where is Rick?

Last Day in Bangkok

2009-12-20T02:45:00.000-08:00

Well, it is with some regret that I prepare to return to SF and end my year of travel, though of course I am looking forward to returning to my "real" life.

I surprised myself in finding that Bangkok was indeed my favorite destination of all of the places I've been to. Bangkok was a stopover really, I just came here to rest after the long flight from SF before heading to Bali, and it was Bali that was supposed to capture my heart.

It didn't.

Instead, Bangkok reminded me that beyond the traffic jams and congestion, beyond the scams and sleaze, lies a charming, friendly, affordable and fascinating place to visit. I was reminded that I've always treated Bangkok as a stopover and never as a destination in itself and I was reminded, if I ever knew it originally, that Bangkok is a place I really want to get to know better.

On this trip more than any other, I found the back alleys, the Bangkok away from the tourist track, to be quite alluring. I found myself wanting to venture further, to explore more, but realized how limited I am by my inability to speak any Thai. Because of the well-developed tourism infrastructure, Thailand, like Indonesia, is a place where it is possible to travel without speaking the language. Also, I've been so intimidated by Thai, with its squiggly, curly, alphabet and its four or five different tones. The best I have ever managed has been to be able to say the numbers from 1-10, and from there, make a feeble attempt to be able to count to a hundred (since it's just a reordering of the names of the numbers from then on). But I always forget, and on this trip I was able to manage from 1-5, which got me through on the prices of most things, and I relearned, the names of pork, beef, chicken, and shrimp. Hardly language fluency by any means, and my awareness of how my language deficiencies limit my real experience of Thailand has made me want to at least make an attempt to learn some Thai.

Today has been a day of rest, and also a day of simply enjoying the pleasure of Bangkok on a Sunday.

After breakfast, in order to vacate my room for the maid, I went to Silom Road for a 2 hour massage at Sabai Thai Massage, the place I had such a good massage yesterday. Two hours cost 400 baht - about $12.

I think maybe I've been overdoing it with the massage. While I love the stretching and they feel so good, Thai massage involves a lot of pressure as well, and I was beginning to feel sore in some of the spots that have been pressed over and over again this past week. I am also dealing with this sore throat that I think is coming from sleeping in the air-con (it is worst in the morning when I wake up), and I think I might be a little tired from all of this travel. But still, the massage was great. While there are a lot of questionable massage parlors all over Bangkok, the ability to walk down the street and get an amazing Thai massage for anywhere between $6-12 is something I am really going to miss. If I can find Thai massage in SF it will be at least $60, and the quality may not be anywhere near as good as it is here.

After my massage, I went to Soi Convent for a bowl of noodles. I had some last night and they were really yummy. I have not indulged a lot in street food on my trips to Bangkok. I'm not sure why. Maybe because it is always so hot. But I was feeling quite relaxed after my massage, and a little chilled from being in the air-conditioned massage room for 2 hours, and it was actually a nice day here, not too hot or humid with a nice breeze blowing.

I had to walk up and down both sides of the street before I found a place that served what I wanted. Since I could not read any of the lettering on the little signs, and since the vendor I got my noodles from last night was not out yet, it was a bit of a mystery to me what so many people were serving. Again I was reminded that my experience of Thailand is very limited to those places that are geared towards foreigners.

Eventually I did find a place and pointed to the noodles I wanted (thick rice noodles) and the minced pork. I said pork, and the woman working the stall said in Thai "moo", which kind of sounds like a cow. I wonder why pork is moo and not beef. Anyway, I confirmed, "moo", though I realized my pronunciation was not nearly as tonal as hers. Mine came out kind of flat while hers had a distinct falling tone.

The noodles were great as was the experience of eating on the street. Mostly it was me and other Thais as foreigners walked by going to places with English menus (including one English pub that I was sitting next to). A few beggars roamed the streets stopping at tables politely asking for money and just as politely walking away when they were denied. There was very little traffic and a lovely breeze was blowing.

My noodles came in a rich broth sprinkled with cilantro and fried onions and shallots. It had minced pork and some sort of balls, maybe fish balls, maybe beef or pork, I am not sure. I'm not a fan of the balls, but they weren't bad. Total cost, 30 baht. About one dollar.

I spiced up my soup with some of the condiments on the table. There are always at least four flavors to add to Thai food. Spicy, sour, sweet or salty. Often there are other combinations of these, such as sour and spicy or salty and spicy or sweet and sour or sweet and spicy. I added some chilis and a dash of sugar.

I was enjoying my meal watching everything around me, including the pigeons rummaging through the garbage set in the gutter, when one of them rewarded me with a little dropping on my hand. I was happy it didn't land in my soup, because I was enjoying it so. I just wiped my hand off and continued eating.

From there I headed over to McDonalds which I discovered last night has a vanilla ice cream cone for 9 baht. The ice cream sales are conveniently located in a little window in the front of McDonalds which up a few stairs on Silom Road - you don't even have to go inside (Thais make their food service so convenient, which is one of the reasons I can't stop eating!)

I got a cone and as I did last night sat on the steps to enjoy the show on Silom Road, directly across from Patpong. As I was eating it, enjoying it so much, another bird dropped something on my leg. I simply moved further up the steps from under the tree that probably housed the little culprit and continued eating.

While last night the whole Patpong night scene was in full gear, today it was all relatively quiet. A few tuk tuk drivers waited on the street, trying to lure tourists for a tuk tuk ride with promises of anywhere from 10-40 baht per hour (until they pull out their little brochures for the sexy show or tailor or gem shopping or whatever their real destination actually is), the Skytrain zoomed by overhead, reminding me that it is there (I had forgotten) and a few pedestrians wandered about - nothing compared to what it would be like later tonight, well into the early hours of the morning.

Bangkok seemed a bit sad today, knowing that I am leaving. Or perhaps I was projecting my own feelings on to the city that felt kind of deserted on this Sunday.

After all of the sights I visited in Europe and my two weeks in Bali, I have to say that Bangkok was my favorite place of all. It might be because it is familiar to me, though I still feel like I am not anywhere close to knowing it, This trip was as much of a trip of discovery as it was returning to an old favorite. What I found was that Bangkok has many charms, beyond the most obvious. The food, the culture, the ayurvedic view of the body/health (including massage) and the friendliness of the people make it a place I want to return to again and again. I certainly cannot say that about Seville or even Amsterdam.

And so, to reluctantly quote our governor, Mr. Arnold Schwarzeneger (I don't know how to spell his name) - Bangkok, "I'll be back!" I hope that when I return, I come with the intention of seeing Bangkok not as a stopover, but as a destination, with my phrasebook in hand and a willingness to continue to venture beyond the safe and easy to continue to peel back the layers of this fascinating city.

Ready to go...

2009-12-19T02:11:00.001-08:00

Someone once said to me that no matter how long you are in a place, when you know you are going to be leaving, you feel ready to go. I'm ready to go.

I've had a great time in Bangkok. I have mostly been enjoying walking the backstreets and seeing the life that is hidden from most tourists on the main drags. I just love seeing all of the little carts selling all kinds of wonderful food with makeshift restaurants set up with little plastic tables and chairs. I've decided that the main roads are for cars and tourists, the back streets are for people. And since I enjoy seeing Thai people more than tourists and cars, I just love the back streets.

Today I would have been perfectly content to stay in my room, but I had to leave so the maid could do her thing (one of the disadvantages of staying in a hotel, even though clean towels and sheets every day are kind of nice...and wasteful). I walked to Silom Center, again taking the back streets. I stopped and bought some fried bananas.

At Silom Center I was looking for some shirts similar to those I bought when I was here in April 2008. They are very light cotton and have a square bottom, which means they are perfect for really hot weather and don't need to be tucked in. I brought them with me to Korea this past summer and they were great for a situation where I had to kind of dress up and it was incredibly hot.

Only, I guess they were "summer" shirts and unbelievably, they now have sweatshirts and long sleeve shirts on display in the stores now. I mean, it went up to 95 yesterday. It is hardly sweatshirt weather!

From there I walked a little on Silom and stumbled across a Thai Massage place. I think it is called Sabai Thai Massage. They had a Thai massage for 200 baht. I was looking for a way to kill some time before lunch (it was too early) and went in.

The massage was great. I've noticed I moan a lot now when I get massage. It just feels so good because my body is all loose and it doesn't hurt and the stretching just feels good. I wish I could get several massages per day. Well, actually I could. Now the thing is when I get home I need to continue to stretch to build on the flexibility I've attained in this past week.

After my very cheap massage (200 baht = $6.00), I went and had lunch. I went to this little hot pot place that I like. I've been there a few times with Bank. Their soup is very good. But hot pot is not a thing to get alone (at least I don't think it is) so I ordered grilled beef salad and green papaya salad. Now I am thinking that maybe this hot pot place is an I-san restaurant (on the fancy side), since they had several I-san dishes I recognized. I like it better than the Chinese place Bank and I went to the other day.

After lunch, I walked around some more back streets, avoiding eye contact with all of the men who were calling out to me (they all wanted me to go see shows or get massage) until finally a tuk tuk driver pulled up next to me. I don't know why I spoke to him because I should have known what he was up to - no good....

I was not very far from my hotel. I was thinking a nice ride around in a tuk tuk would be fun, but I know that doesn't exist. But when he pulled up next to me and called out to me, I turned to look.

He said something about driving around. I told him no. Then he pulled out a pamphlet and showed it to me. It had a bunch of scantily clad women. I don't know if it was for a massage or a show or what. It turned out that is what he was selling - not a ride in his tuk tuk.

I decided to be bold with him because if I just told him I wasn't interested, he would have persisted.

I said, "I don't like lady", and kept walking.

He was stunned for a moment and said, "what you like?"

I was waiting for him to pull up beside me with a pamphlet with scantily clad men, but instead it took him some time before he finally moved. Maybe he was in shock?

When he did start his tuk tuk he passed by me without another word. It turned out, in this instance, simply stating the fact that I am gay (in a rather roundabout way) was the perfect way to get this tuk tuk driver to back off. Something tells me though, that it probably won't work with all of them.

Cutey and Beauty

2009-12-18T05:55:00.000-08:00

I'm taking advantage of these last few days of pampering. I mean, what else can I do?

I decided to try a gay salon for my final facial instead of the really cold, slightly uncomfortable MBK experience. I was glad I changed.

I went to Beauty and Cutey, or Cutey and Beauty, I can't remember the order. It's located on the third floor of Thaniya Plaza, this weird Japanese-oriented shopping center that mostly has golf supplies - clothes, clubs, etc. I'm not sure how Beauty and Cutey ended up there.

I walked in and was greeted by a cutey who offered me coffee or tea. I got a glass of water and was then led into a little room for my facial.

It was one of the best facials I've ever had. The guy who did it was a young guy named Tong or Tong, or Toon or Doon, I can't remember. He did the usual steps that most facials include, different creams, cleansers, masks, peels, etc, but at one point his fingers felt like they were playing the harp on my face. It was incredible. He just kept massaging and massaging using all of his fingers. I've never had anything like that done before. And at about $15,it was quite the bargain.

When we finished, I was led back out into the salon. Several men were waiting and chatting, one guy was sitting in a chair with dye in his hair, and another was getting a haircut. And then there she was. I don't know who this guy was, but it is amazing to me that a person could dress the way he did and not get second looks, but again, the Thais seem to be impervious to the strange collections of foreigners that visit their country.

This guy was wearing a shirt that was electric blue and had bright pink and yellow strips of fabric sewn on it. He was wearing little square, yellow glasses, tight jeans and yellow high top converse sneakers. When he went to pay he pulled out a furry pink wallet. Oh, and he had a blue scarf tied around his neck and a yellow t-shirt under the electric blue shirt. He was like a walking neon sign.

When I came out he was getting a manicure, with polish, of course (but not yellow or pink, just clear). He said, "good idea" when he saw me sit next to him for my mani-pedi.

First a young cutey named Jet started on my nails and the guy who was working on the neon princess came over and did my feet when he was done. I was sitting there feeling like royalty having these two young guys working on me at the same time. And I felt so much more comfortable than I did at the place I had my original pedicure and foot massage when I first arrived. The women there were a little too pushy and I felt like they were trying to get me to go upstairs for more. Here, I felt comfortable in the hands of two cute young gay men and there was no sexual tension (though the guy doing my feet seemed a little flirty in a funny Thai way).

From there I went to Silom Center for lunch. I ate in the food court that is my little secret, though I do see a few foreigners there once in a while. I had fried chicken and rice with a nice soup and a thai desert - sweet potato and corn in coconut milk with shaved ice. It's one of my favorite deserts and always feels so refreshing and not terribly unhealthy.

I went to the basement of Silom Center to buy some chili oil, one thing I forgot to pick up. It's nice to dribble a little on tom ka gai (coconut milk with chicken soup), but as luck would have it, Tops didn't sell it! I am getting so fed up with Tops. I know I saw it yesterday at Tokyu, so I guess I will need to make a trip there tomorrow if I really want it.

I was expecting Ken or Bank to contact me but neither one did, so it looked like I had the evening off. In the four months I've been traveling, this is the only place that I actually have made any friends, and good ones too. Ken has been amazing driving me around and trying to show me parts of Bangkok that I have never seen before, and Bank is an old friend and I love his sense of humor. I'm so happy that he has found someone who is taking good care of him and hope the US will give him a visa and allow him to visit SF with his boyfriend next month. But since neither one of them contacted me, and I was feeling like I needed an evening of rest, I didn't try to contact either one of them and instead took a nice nap when I got back to my hotel.

After my nap, it was time to eat again (seems like all I do). I left my hotel and walked up Soi Phipat, the street that runs from the Skytrain Station to the other end of my "block" to Soi Convent. Along the way I got curious about this little winding street that veered off to the left. I've passed it many times and I was wondering where it would take me, especially now that I am realizing that this little world within the sois is in a way like a hidden world.

I walked down this little street which was really only big enough for a motorbike and had no traffic. Old style Thai houses with lots of pots filled with big luscious plants lined both sides of the street. Doors and windows were open. Some shops were open and others had closed up. A radio playing American country music blared (I think it was Hank Williams or someone like that). The whole thing seemed so surreal. I walked under a very big banyan tree with its roots hanging down to the street and came to a dead end, where girls and boys were lifting weights with an old man sitting in a chair yelling directions at them. Wow. Talk about stumbling on a hidden world.

It seemed like I could go no further, so I turned around and retraced my steps, past the banyan tree, the country music and on to Soi Phipat where there was more life, and finally to Soi Convent clogged with traffic. From there I walked to Silom Road which was packed with people, the road clogged with cars just sitting and going nowhere. It was hard to believe that just a few steps away past the banyan tree lay another world of boys and girls lifting weights with an old many yelling directions at them.

I often wish I had a device attached to my eyes that when I blink a certain way, I could take a photo of the things I see. I've seen so many interesting people but don't just want to point my camera at people unaware, and if I were to ask their permission to photograph them, it would completely spoil the shot. So I guess these images I've seen, especially walking down the sois, are for my eyes only and anyone who wants to see them will just have to come to Bangkok and get off the main streets.

And so my last weekend in Bangkok approaches and I am seriously considering returning to Thailand for my next sabbatical, and thinking this might be a place I could retire. I would not be able to have anything resembling a decent life in the US, but here, on my retirement salary, I could live quite well, and it seems I would easily be able to make friends, have access to wonderful massages and services and get decent medical care. There seem to be quite a number of long-term foreigners in Thailand and they seem quite happy.

But for the moment I have the problem of getting my new suitcase to close and lock. It is entirely full of Thai cooking supplies - curry pastes, herbs, and a new wooden pestle. But I can't get the stupid thing to close. I'm going to have to unpack it and see if I can do a better job of packing. And I guess that bottle of chili oil will have to wait until my next trip.

Makro!

2009-12-17T08:12:00.000-08:00

It's funny the things that get me excited. Kind of strange, actually. But I guess at heart, I am a shameless capitalist consumer.

Today was another hot day, and I've been fighting a sore throat which I think was caused by sleeping directly under the air-conditioning vent. I solved that problem by changing the position of the bed and the sofa in my room, so now the air-con blows on the sofa, which I don't use.

I wanted to take it easy today but also needed a reason to leave my room when the maid came to clean. I didn't want to see her shock at the rearrangement of my room (I did inform the front desk). So I decided to continue my search for dried galangal and kaffir lime leaves so that I can make some decent curries and soups in SF.

I headed to Sukhumvit Road where I used to stay when I first started coming to Bangkok. I remembered a pretty big supermarket there where I knew I bought dried galangal and kaffir lime leaves before. I knew they also had a food court where I could eat lunch.

I took the sky train and got off at Asok station. The supermarket, Tops, was a short walk from there in the basement of Robinson Department store.

As I entered, I wasn't sure where to go at first because they had remodeled. It seemed much smaller and I knew right away that they wouldn't have what I wanted. It was even smaller than the Tops in Silom Center, and if they didn't have what I needed, this one wouldn't either. This was the third supermarket I'd been to in my quest.

Not sure what to do I decided to head to MBK and try the supermarket in the basement of the Tokyu Department Store. I got some pandan flavoring there last time I was in Bangkok and none of the other supermarkets I've been to on this trip seem to carry it, so I figured they might have these other two things I'm looking for.

I first went to the 5th floor of MBK to the International Food Court. They had Indian, Vietnamese, Thai Fusion, Vegetarian, Italian and a bunch of other choices. After walking around, I decided to try the I-san food. Though they spelled it E-saarn. I ordered fried chicken with herbs, fruits som tom and sticky rice.

The food looked great but I was a little disappointed. The idea of a som tom which is normally made with green papaya, made with different fruits was really intriguing. I couldn't wait to taste it.

It looked beautiful when I got it. It had grapes, pineapple, green apple, pomelo, tomatoes and maybe some red apple. It was sprinkled with chili powder. But the sauce was way too fishy. They had put too much fish sauce. I'm going to try to make it myself and use only a sprinkle of fish sauce (if any) and lime juice and fresh chili and maybe some cilantro. The chicken was pretty good. It was fried and sprinkled with lemon grass and other herbs.

From there I went up to the 6th floor and got some sticky rice with mango. I figured I won't have much longer to eat it so I better enjoy it while I can.

After my big lunch, I went to the basement of Tokyu.

A very annoying foreigner was asking one of the clerks questions about all of the Thai packaged spices and things. "Is this spicy?" "What is this?" "How can I use this?" Since she was answering him, I knew she spoke English. So I asked, "Do you have dried galangal?"

She gave me the same quizzical look the woman in the Tops on Sukhumvit gave me. Only since then I learned that the package of Tom Ka Gai paste I had had a picture of galangal on it. It was for that that I wanted galangal. Tom Ka Gai is a soup made with coconut milk, chicken and galangal and kaffir lime leaves. It's the galangal and kaffir lime that give the soup its bite.

So I pulled out a package of Tom Ka Gai paste I bought at the other Tops (this supermarket also turned out to be a Tops) and showed her.

She said, "fresh or dried?" I was hopeful and said, "dried". She said they only had powder.

I was disappointed but ready to try the powder, but I asked her, "where can I buy it?" and she said, "Fourth Floor, Tokyu". It seemed the Tokyu Department Store had a supermarket on the fourth floor.

So I made my way back upstairs hoping she hadn't sent me on a wild goose chase because for some cultural reason it might be better to give an answer than to say, "I don't know". But to my delight, the Tokyu did have both the kaffir lime and galangal. I bought a few bags of each plus some more curry pastes.

I came back to my hotel, laden with shopping bags and escaped the taxi drivers comments somehow. Usually when they see me with a bag they say, "oh, many shopping". These are the guys who hang outside of my hotel.

On the way home, I had stopped at Senses Spa and made an appointment with Mr. A for another foot/thai massage combo at 3 p.m. I had a little time to take a nap before my massage.

The massage was as good as yesterday. The stretches are really good for me, and Mr. A really knows how to stretch me to my limit without making it painful. I left feeling very light on my feet (again) and headed over to Silom to pick up my laundry.

By the time I got back to my hotel it was just about time for me to meet my friend Ken in the lobby. He was waiting there for me at 6.

We came up to my room and chatted a bit and waited for traffic to die down before heading out. He took me across a new bridge to another province outside of Bangkok. It was dark so it was hard to see, but he tried pointing out the fact that there were a lot of trees as opposed to the urban sprawl that is Bangkok. It was kind of hard to believe that a short drive across a bridge we were in an area that looked very rural. How had it escaped the massive development that is Bangkok?

We drove around a bit looking for a place to eat. At one point we got out and walked and I felt like a curiosity (something I do not feel in Bangkok). A group of high school girls smoking cigarettes by the river called out, "hello!!!" I ignored them because they looked like bad girls (smoking by the river and all that).

We couldn't find any food so we returned to the same I-san place we went the other night. It was again as entertaining as it was before. There were only a few foreigners there (all accompanied by Thais) and the rest were Thai people, and the dogs, and the vendors that stopped by - the little girl selling cookies, a mute woman selling little plastic key chains that buzzed and lit up, and a guy on a bike selling dried squid. A Thai soap opera was playing on two large TVs and a few guys were getting really drunk.

When we finished dinner, Ken took me to Makro.

I had told him I needed a mortar and pestle for making Som Tom (green papaya salad). The mortar you use is ceramic and the pestle is wooden. I have a stone mortar and pestle I got on my last trip here.

Makro is a huge bulk type place kind of like Costco or Jumbo or the many other big bulk places I've been to on my travels. I was like a kid in a candy store. Probably because as we entered, all there was were cookies and candy. We made our way to the back where they had a big bag of dried galangal (that I didn't buy and will now regret) and eventually found the ceramic mortars and wooden pestles.

The whole time this military type theme music was playing, M-A-K-R-O, Makro!!! It had us marching through the aisles singing along. I think it was signaling they were closing. We were the only ones I saw still shopping.

I asked Ken if I could use my stone mortar and just get a wooden pestle and he said yes. The thing about Som Tom is it is too delicate to use a stone pestle, but it seemed to me the thing you crush it with is more important than the thing you crush it in. And I didn't want to carry a big ceramic mortar and then have to figure out where I was going to store it, especially since I would probably make som tom once or twice per year.

So, I just got the wooden pestle, which looks kind of like a mini baseball bat, paid for it and as we were leaving the turned out the lights.

Unfortunately, Makro requires a membership, so if I want to go back, I'll need to go with Ken. I don't think I need to go back.

And so it was another full day in Bangkok, eating, shopping, getting massaged, and being driven around by my new friend who has a car.

But the one thing I will remember about today was my visit to Makro!

Behind the Veil

2009-12-16T06:31:00.000-08:00

I had a nice day today with my old friend Bank. We met about 11:30 at Silom Complex, had lunch, hung out a bit and then went out for a snack later (since neither one of us really enjoyed what we had for lunch and didn't eat much).

As we were sitting in a little restaurant on Soi 3, up the street from my hotel, I told him how much I like this little neighborhood where my hotel is located. Since it is located on a soi off the main streets, it feels like my own private piece of Bangkok. There are a lot of foreigners staying in my hotel (of course) and there was some sort of hotel/residence right next to the place we were eating, yet, the life on the streets outside of the restaurant was unmistakably Thai. I like that I get to see a little bit of Thai life that is not altered or distorted for tourists' eyes like on some of the main streets.

I watched as people went to and fro, most of them returning from work, but others going or returning from shopping or running other errands. Directly outside of the window of the restaurant was another little soi and we observed several guys horsing around. It looked like they were fighting, but they were just playing. Life in the sois seems so much more relaxed and playful than life on the main streets.

It is interesting to see the way the city is laid out. I consider the two main streets, Silom and Sathorn Roads, to be the outer rings of my "block", and between those two main streets, there are several smaller streets that run parallel, but are not for cars or other vehicles that are not traveling within the boundaries of the block. I mean, it would be very difficult for anyone who was trying to go anywhere else in the city to travel through the sois. Often they end in dead ends or are blocked by pedestrians, bikes, parked cars, or vendors selling food on the streets.

So there are the two major streets and then some minor streets and within them a bunch of alleyways that get no vehicle traffic at all, but where there are various markets that come and go during the day. It's quite a web of life all within this "block" of the city.

Because I've always stayed on the main roads, I never really ventured into the sois unless I had a destination that was located on a soi. But now, since I am staying on one, and I find life on the main streets to be a bit overwhelming at times, I'm enjoying just hanging out in this inner world, and I feel like this veil which has always existed for me as far at Thailand goes, is intermittently pierced and I get to see inside the real Thailand a bit more.

I doubt that as a foreigner I will ever really experience or come close to knowing the real Thailand. I don't know if any outsider can ever really know the true essence of any other foreign culture. But I can see that by only sticking to the main touristy areas and only going to places where menus are in English and I can get by without speaking Thai, I have limited myself to only one aspect of life in Bangkok, and there is so much more to it that I cannot even begin to imagine.

After traveling around to so many different places, I think I have a much deeper appreciation for Thailand as a place to visit. The people are incredibly sweet, gentle, friendly and easygoing. They have an expression they often use that translates as "never mind". I never feel they are in any way judgemental of the many oafish foreigners (myself included) who traipse around their streets sweating, looking incredibly uncomfortable and making all kinds of cultural faux pas. They either pretend not to see us, or when they have to deal with us, it is always with a smile and a sense of total acceptance.

And then there is the food. After so many trips to Thailand I am completely ruined when it comes to eating Thai food anywhere else. From a makeshift cart on some alley to the fanciest restaurants, the food is incredibly delicious, varied, healthy, fresh and often very cheap. Other than our lunch today (we had a hot pot in this Chinese-type chain restaurant), everything that I've eaten here has been incredible. I had a delicious serving of sticky rice with mango that I picked up at the market next to the place where I got my laundry today. Later with Bank I had a really yummy pork salad with garlic, chili, lime juice, shallots and mint, and tom kha gai, coconut milk soup with chicken, galangal, kaffir lime, lemon grass and this one had some really yummy mushrooms (I took what we didn't finish to my hotel and just had it as a snack).

Between eating, there is either shopping or massage. The shopping opportunities are endless, and my quest to find a good Thai massage nearby was finally realized today when I went to a little place that just opened down the street from my hotel. I got a 2-hour massage - 1 hour foot massage which was really good, and 1 hour traditional thai massage which was not at all painful and really helped to stretch some of my tight joints. I wish I had tried it sooner and will be going back every day if I can until I leave on Monday.

I guess what I was trying to express when I started this post kind of got sidetracked, but it brings me back to an earlier thought I had before I started writing. I was thinking of my experience eating with Bank earlier and then having my feet massaged in a place that was filled with foreigners. I had gone from one side of the veil to the other. But I think one of the things I am really appreciating about Bangkok is that it allows me to do that. When I was with Ken yesterday eating I-san food and being the only foreigner, no one took a second look. No one acted like "what is HE doing here?" - I was there and no one seemed to care. And yet, I can go and pamper myself and do things that Thais might not do (in the same way). Sure they get massages, but not in fancy places like I was today (with fancy prices, that are cheap for me, but not for them). I have the ability to move between these two worlds easily, at will, as much as I like.

It's easy for me to love Bangkok because I have only done it in short doses. Unlike Seville, where I eventually got bored and tired of the heat and the noise in my neighborhood, I never get to that point with Bangkok because I am never here long enough. But I am thinking that I would like to try staying a little bit longer to see what the experience becomes like for me. I'm guessing that given the openness of the Thais and the ease with which I seem to meet people here, I will find myself having more opportunities to get to know the real Bangkok, on the other side of the veil.

A Small World

2009-12-15T07:47:00.000-08:00

Funny how things happen. Some of my best memories in Bangkok were with a friend I met years ago named Bank. I'd always look him up when I came here and with him I did fun things like go to the movies, go bowling, etc. I always felt like I had moved beyond being a tourist and was having a more authentic Thai experience - well as much as a foreigner who did not speak any Thai could have.

Today after breakfast, I headed down Soi 3 to Silom Road. I was going to walk to Silom Center to see if the supermarket there had dried galangal and kaffir lime (part of my quest to bring back ingredients for Thai cooking).

As I was walking down the street two Thai guys approached me. One of them smiled, and said hello and punched me lightly on the shoulder as they passed. I thought they were two hustlers or something flirting with me. But as they passed, a flash of recognition hit me. I turned around and said, "hey!" It was Bank!

What are the odds that I would run into him like that on this little soi running from my hotel? The odds are even less given the fact that he is now living in Hong Kong with his Norwegian boyfriend and has been there for 5 years. No wonder it's been so long since I've seen him around. He is here to renew his passport.

Anyway, he was with a friend going to get something to eat, so we made plans to meet up tomorrow for lunch. He and his boyfriend will be in San Francisco next month and I look forward to showing him around a bit.

I didn't have any luck with my shopping excursion, so after lunch, I came back and rested.

Yesterday I met an interesting Thai guy and we made plans to meet tonight for dinner. He speaks fair English (sometimes I have a hard time with his pronunciation) - he is close to my age (but looks much younger) and I found out today he is a police officer. He's also gay, which is why he approached me when he saw me :)

Anyway, tonight we met and he drove me in his car (!) to an outdoor restaurant where we could have I-san food. I-san is a region in Northeast Thailand near Laos. Culturally, I think they are very close to Laos, and the food is often compared to Lao food (by Thais). It is known for being very spicy. Some of my favorite Thai dishes are from I-san.

As we were driving there, Ken (that's his name) asked me if I knew I-san food. I mentioned a few things I knew - Yam Nuea (a beef salad I love) and Laab Gai (minced chicken with shallots, coriander and mint that is served with cabbage and other raw vegetables). He also named Som Tam (green papaya salad). When I said I liked that, he said, "so we have our menu".

We arrived at this place which is not too far from my hotel, but not a place I would have gone on my own. I was the only foreigner there at first (one other white guy arrived later with a Thai woman). Ken ordered and instead of the chicken laab, he got a roasted chicken (half).

The food was delicious. The chicken had been grilled to perfection with the outside crispy and the inside tender and moist. It had been stuffed with herbs and had a delicious smoky flavor to it. It came with two chili sauces, one sweet and hot, and the other sour and hot (but neither too hot). We also got the beef salad and papaya salad. The total for all of that came to 190 baht - less than $6.00.

Ken was really worried I wouldn't like the place, but I loved it. I got to observe Thais in a more natural setting. There were groups of co-workers drinking and eating together as well as some families. A woman walked around selling lottery tickets and a little girl had some cookies she tried desperately to sell (she came to our table twice). Soon a guy honking a horn came up on a bicycle and sat there for a bit selling desserts. It was nice to be away from the tourist trail and all that comes with that (inflated prices, aggressive taxi drivers, etc.)

From there Ken told me he was taking me to a different place. I had no idea where we were going. We crossed the bridge and went from Bangkok to Thonburi, on the other side of the river. I've always seen it from the boats on the river, but have never been there. It was like an older version of Bangkok and a little more low-key. We went to a new apartment building and Ken took me to the 33rd floor to show me a new apartment he had just bought. From his balcony we could see a beautiful view of the river, the Oriental Hotel and further down Wat Arun (the temple of the dawn). It was a really lovely experience. He is not living there because he said it is too far for him to commute (he lives near my hotel). In Bangkok it can take forever to move just a few blocks in rush hour traffic. He said he wants to rent it out. I thought it would be a perfect place for someone in Bangkok for a short time. I myself was looking for a furnished vacation apartment (though I don't know if I'd want to be in Thonburi, not speaking any Thai). I told Ken I would help him post an ad on Craigslist.

I'm so happy that I ran into Bank and will see him tomorrow and that I have a new friend in Bangkok who is willing to show me around and allow me to have a little bit more of an authentic experience. It's times like these, when I get to see the real Thailand, that I really think I could live here long term. If nothing else, I would be assured to always have wonderful, cheap food available any time of day or night!

I have no patience for bargaining

2009-12-14T07:55:00.001-08:00

I went to MBK today after dropping off my laundry. I had a nice lunch in the food court - some pork and rice and green papaya salad and then sticky rice with mango for desert - all for less than $5. It was quite a splurge, since usually I don't even spend $3 at MBK for lunch.

Afterwards, I went exploring all of the booths on the 6th floor which seem mostly geared towards foreigners. They have a lot of junk. Cheap Buddha statues that don't look very serene, candles and candle holders, silk scarves and pashminas (I don't know what a pashmina is), clothes, etc.

I was looking at a t-shirt for my great-niece Emma. It was cute, it said Thailand on it and had a picture of a tuk tuk. I asked the woman how much it was and she said 300 baht. It seemed expensive to me. I think she said she would go down to 250. I told her I would pay 200 and she said it was too low. I walked away, thinking she would say, "okay, okay, 200", but she didn't.

Then I found the luggage place and saw the same style of luggage I bought on Silom Rd last night. It was priced at 1650. I paid 1400. As I was looking at it, the woman who ran the "shop" came over and said, "I can discount". I asked, "how much?" and she took out her calculator and punched in 1400.

I told her I bought it on Silom last night for the same price. "Good price, right?" I asked. She said, "you want this color?" I told her I already had one. I said, "I wanted the big one" and she said, "you want this color?" I finally said, "maybe next time" and she smiled as I walked away.

I wasn't really seeing anything worth buying and I so wanted to buy something. Unlike the weekend market, this shopping area was nicely air-conditioned, so it was a pleasure to walk around. I just wished they had more things of quality like at the weekend market. There were more things there that I would have bought if I could have withstood the heat.

I passed on little table that had some magnets on it. I picked up a package of about 6 little magnets that were little bamboo baskets of dim sum. The woman came over with her calculator.

I asked, "how much?" and she punched in 380. She was speaking in a very low voice so I couldn't really hear her, but I got that she was saying she could discount for me, especially if I bought more than one. "How many you buy?" she asked.

I told her it was too expensive. I mean, she was asking more than 10 dollars for this little collection of magnets that were basically junk. I think she went down to 300, which was still too much. I would have paid 100 for them.

She kept asking me how much I would pay, but I just wanted her to tell me what the real price was and to stop this little game of zeroing in on the lowest price she would sell them to me for. Finally, I decided I didn't need them. I mean, they weren't even Thai food, they were Chinese, so why would I buy them in Thailand? As I walked away, she kept insisting that I tell her my price. I thought the whole thing was ridiculous and realize that I am just not into bargaining they way I once was.

When I was in Sumatra, it was fun to bargain. I think because the Indonesians made it fun and also because things were really cheap. But, I ended up buying a lot of stuff I didn't really want or need because of the fun of bargaining. But now, I don't know if it is because I am older, or I am tired, or it is hot, or what, but I really have no patience for bargaining. I'd prefer a fixed price and then I will make a decision as to whether or not to buy based on that price.

In the States it is said by some that if you have to ask the price it means you can't afford it, but here, if you ask the price, usually it is not the real price and it just seems to me that a lot of people end up overpaying for things.

The Art of Bargaining....or not....

2009-12-13T08:25:00.000-08:00

I should have just gone to bed, but unfortunately, my time clock is all screwed up now. I was on a nice schedule of going to bed early and waking up early so that on the 21st, when I have to be at the airport at 4 a.m., meaning I have to get up around 2:30 or so, it won't be so difficult. But now, here it is, 11:26 p.m., and I'm not really feeling tired. How did this happen?

So, since I was not tired yet, and I was really hungry, and it was a Sunday evening and there wouldn't be a lot of traffic on the street, I decided to go out for a walk and hunt down a little snack.

I was hoping for some fried chicken with chili sauce or maybe a few sticks of satay. But when I got to the main road whose name I don't know right now (but I did know it at one time), all of the little food vendors had long gone. I started to walk to Sathorn Rd., but I wasn't sure there would be anyone there, but I did know where to find food ... Silom Road.

Silom Road seems to have food day and night. The vendors come in shifts. There are morning vendors, afternoon vendors and then the evening ones. Pavements in front of closed office buildings are turned into sidewalk cafes, and that is where I headed - Bee's Cafe, "the best pavement cafe in Bangkok" or so their t-shirts said.

I'd had seafood there before and while it wasn't memorable, I was really in the mood for a nice tom yam kung - spicy soup with lemongrass and shrimp. I thought it would be the thing to knock out the remnants of my cold.

I had a beer and a really delicious little claypot of tom yam and the mosquitoes feasted on me. I forgot about them. Now that I am in the city, I didn't think I had to worry about them. I also didn't think I would be sitting outside. My plan was to get a little snack in a plastic bag and come back to my room and eat it.

After my little meal, I was in the mood for something else, preferably on the sweet side - maybe some nice pineapple, or those little Thai deserts made from gelatin and topped with coconut milk.

I didn't pass anyone selling anything of the sort. A few taxi drivers reminded me of Bali by yelling out "taxi?", though they didn't make the funny steering gesture that the Balinese do. I tried my best to ignore them, because I knew they would also try to offer me other things, like massage. Taxi and tuk tuk drivers who sit by the side of the road are best avoided.

I started to pass through the last dying breath of the Patpong night market that runs all the way down Silom Road. Even though I was blocks from Patpong, I don't know what else to call it (the Silom Night Market?) I was thinking of how it has changed from 15 or so years ago when I first used to shop there. I still have a collection of great cotton pants and shirts that I bought there years ago that they don't seem to make anymore. Now most items seem to be geared towards home decor, though there are still plenty of fake gucci bags and Dolce and Gabana sunglasses to be found.

I passed a few places selling luggage. I stopped and looked at one piece, but no one was there to ask a price, and I didn't really like it anyway. I think it was a fake Polo piece of luggage.

Further down, I saw the kind of luggage I was planning on buying at MBK. The price there was 1,750 baht. I don't know if it was negotiable. I asked the woman sitting in a beach chair on the sidewalk how much it was and she said, 3,800 baht. I simply said, "eh" and kept on walking.

She called after me, "wait, how much you pay?"

I told her I could get it at MBK for 1,200 baht. I sort of lied. I wasn't sure if the one for 1,750 was bigger or not, but I thought so. So I estimated what I thought the smaller one cost.

She said, "ok, 2,500". I said, "no, it's okay, I can get it at MBK cheaper".

I started to walk away, seriously. But she came after me.

"Wait, you give me good price. Please, today no sale. You help me."

I told her at MBK it was 1,200.

She said, "ok, I give you 1,400"

At this point, I pretty much had to take it. She had really come down from her ridiculous first price and it was also easier for me to carry it from Silom to my hotel than to lug it on the Skytrain from MBK.

Now, I don't know if I got a deal or not, but I think from the price that was posted on the luggage at MBK, I think I did.

One less errand to run now (though I still want to go to MBK and compare prices) and I can now begin filling my bright lemon/lime green new suitcase.

Chatuchak Weekend Market

2009-12-13T06:43:00.000-08:00

I decided to go to the weekend market today since I am thinking it is still winter here in Bangkok. But as I soon found out, it is not. The coolness that I experienced before heading to Bali is now a distant memory and it looks like it is only going to heat up this week. Too bad I didn't take advantage when it was cool, but c'est la vie.

So anyway, I hopped on the skytrain which goes directly to Chatuchak Park where the weekend market is located. I actually never realized there was a park there until today. I've been there probably every time I've been to Bangkok, and I've been to Bangkok close to 20 times, but I never realized there was a park called Chatuchak. How could that be?

Anyway, I headed directly to the area of the market that sells tourist-oriented items. I passed lots of vendors selling food, delicious looking stuff, but I was on a mission to get to a familiar part of the market, buy some souvenirs and then maybe eat if I was feeling like it.

I did stop and buy these little round things that I think are made with rice flour and coconut milk, I don't know what they are, but I was feeling a bit peckish and needed a pick-me-up. I also bought a longan drink, which was nice. There is one noodle stall that I usually get a bowl of noodles at, but I couldn't find it. They seem to have moved things around a bit.

I am amazed at how big this market is and how many people are involved in selling things. I have never walked through the whole market, mostly because it is too hot and crowded, but I am sure you would need both Saturday and Sunday to actually cover the whole thing. Lately, I just go to one area to buy stuff and then get out as quickly as possible.

Basically, that is what I did today. I walked through the aisles of the stalls where they were selling Thai silks, antiques, touristy stuff, etc., and the only thing I bought were some soaps made by a woman in her kitchen. I learned in Bali that certain spices have antiseptic properties, and these soaps are made with those spices, so they are very good for the skin. I got clove, cinnamon, lemongrass, etc. They'll make nice gifts and also be nice for me to use and remind myself of all of my spa treatments that I won't be able to afford in San Francisco.

I started feeling a little bit like I might be on the verge of a vertigo attack and that was kind of scary because I didn't have any medicine with me. It was hot, crowded and noisy and I was a long way from the exit, but I made my way through the crowd and eventually got to Chatuchak Park which is located right next to the stairs for the Skytrain.

Once I was on the Skytrain I felt better, so I stopped at Silom Center, a shopping center one Skytrain stop from my hotel. They have a nice food court there that seems to serve mainly office workers and students from the different schools in Silom Center (computer and English programs). It's one of those deals where you buy coupons and then go to whichever stall you want to get food from. I had a pork and rice dish and some tapioca with coconut milk and corn. It only cost me 50 baht, which is a little over a dollar. Food is definitely cheaper in Bangkok than in Bali.

I came back to my hotel and rested a bit and then had a 1.5 hour Thai Massage. It wasn't the best massage I've had. The guy seemed to be trying too hard. When he asked if I wanted medium or soft, I said strong. I think he actually didn't know how to give a strong massage and was trying so hard he was hurting me and himself. I finally told him to relax and go softer, but it was too late. The good news is neither one of us were injured.

So it looks like my major focus this week will be shopping. I want to pick up some spices and ingredients so that I can cook Thai food in San Francisco. Even though some things are available there, they are so much cheaper here, I want to stock up. It also means I need to buy another suitcase to carry everything home in.

I'm not sure what else I will end up buying, but really Bangkok is a shopper's paradise. You can buy anything here and you can buy it anywhere. In addition to the weekend market, there are night markets and then countless shopping centers and supermarkets and my favorite place to shop (and eat) MBK.

Depending on the weather, I may sign up for a bike tour I read about, but if it is too hot, I think I'll stick to air-conditioned shopping centers and continue my quest for a good Thai massage that is convenient to my hotel.

Gee, I'm hungry now and I've already eaten four times today.....

Back in Bangkok

2009-12-12T06:21:00.000-08:00

I really need to learn from my mistakes. Is this a facet of growing older? Am I destined for a life of confusion about dates and times as I age?

I sure hope not.

I hope there are other factors at play here, like the heat, travel fatigue, planetary alignments, ....

Ok, so what happened is this. When I left Bangkok for Denpasar, I thought my flight was at 3 something in the afternoon and it turned out it was at 8:50 a.m. I only realized this after I had a leisurely sleep in and at 6 a.m. decided I'd slept enough and I should check my actual flight time so I knew what time to leave for the airport. Well, good thing I checked because if I hadn't, I would have missed my flight.

And so this morning, I woke up at 6-ish (maybe 7), had a leisurely breakfast and then hung out in my room after packing. I would have hung out longer, but Made was sitting outside of my room waiting for me to leave so he could clean. It was really kind of annoying. He has this distinctive cough and every now and then he'd cough, and I'd catch him peeking in at me to see me lying on the bed (I pretended I didn't see or hear him). Finally, I got up and asked him if he wanted to clean my room.

"No, take your time", he said, as he sat there waiting.

Either he was just using this as an excuse to take a break, which is very unlike him, because the guy works like a horse, or he really wanted to clean my room. Finally I moved my bags out onto my porch and told him to clean.

I went and paid, and at 10:30 my driver came. I was at the airport by 11:30.

I thought my flight was at 14:10.

When I got to the airport, Thai Airways was nowhere to be found. I went to China Air, thinking they were Thai (I just saw the cardboard cutout of Asian women in pretty uniforms) and they told me the Thai counter opened at 1.

I had time to kill.

I thought I would check in and then have a little time to get something to eat. But I thought it was strange that they opened so late if there was a flight at 2:10. So, I checked my itinerary.

It turned out my flight was at 16:10 - 4:10! I had a lot of time to kill.

At least I was early and not rushing. And given the circumstances of my checkout, with Made sitting there coughing occasionally to let me know he was there, what else could I have done? I could have had one more massage this morning, but really....

And so after I checked in, I went and had the worst Indonesian food of my whole trip. Really horrible, salty, nasi campur that I wouldn't have finished except I was really hungry. Then I walked around, looking for something else to snack on.

I could not believe how much I was hassled, still, by people calling out to me. "Hello sir, please have a look", "foot massage?" "where you from?" I was so tired of it. I mean, this was the airport!

Maybe it's just me, but I am more likely to go into a shop if I know I won't be followed and pressured to buy. And I am more likely to buy something if I enter a shop. But when I walked past places and people said, "hello sir, please come have a look", I just kept walking.

And so, it felt good to leave Bali. I'd had a nice time and loved the spa treatments, but the constant haranguing was really just too much. I mean, it happens to some degree in Bangkok, but not as much, and definitely not in the airport!

The flight was not totally full and I was able to get an entire row to myself. The four hours went fast.

Soon I was back in Bangkok in the very impressive new airport and after quickly clearing customs and immigration (I am still amazed at how easy it is in other countries compared to my own), I was in a taxi with a driver who had smoked a little too many cigarettes and buzzing on the freeway at incredibly high speeds to my hotel.

The taxi drivers from the airport all seem to speak some English. This guy's English was not as good as the driver I had when I first arrived, but he could speak some. He told me he had been driving a cab for 33 years and knew his way all around Bangkok, Chiang Mai and Pattaya. But he didn't know where my hotel was.

Fortunately I did.

But I relied a little too much on his self-professed reputation as the "number 1 taxi driver". As we pulled into Soi 3 from Silom Road, he got a call on his cell phone. While he was talking, I steered him to Soi Phipat, where there were signs with arrows pointing to the Furama Hotel, where I am staying.

I thought he saw the signs, but when it came time to turn, he missed the turn. Fortunately, I caught him in time and he was able to stop, back up and turn into the little street where the hotel entrance is.

As he was driving along this little street, which I think is Phiphat 2, he said, "Oh, yes, FX, I know", but as he passed the entrance to the hotel parking lot, it turned out he didn't know. Again, I had to say, "wait, right there".

He gave me some lame excuse about usually coming from the other direction. If he was as good as he said he was, it wouldn't matter what direction he came from.

And so, within one hour after landing, I was checked into my room. Amazing. It used to be unthinkable to get from the airport to central Bangkok in anything less than 2 hours and that involved mostly sitting in traffic. Now, the airport seems to have more immigration officers and the freeways make a huge difference in travel times.

I just finished a nice bowl of Tom Kha Gai (chicken soup with coconut milk) and am ready to shower and crawl into bed.

I have a little over a week to spend here and am not sure what I will do for that time. I may hunt out a few more cooking classes at other schools, but I think otherwise, I will just relax by the pool, eat, and get massages. I mean, I went a full day without a massage, I will certainly be ready for one tomorrow!

Ubud, last day...

2009-12-11T03:27:00.001-08:00

I'm ready to go. I think it is this cold, but I am feeling quite irritable and tired of the friendliness/nosiness of the Ubudese (whatever they are called). No longer will I have to answer "where you go?" or ignore another guy yelling "taxi?". At least in Bangkok I get the gentleness and smiles without all of the questions!

My cold is fading fast, but I still felt the remnants of it when I woke up this morning. After breakfast and taking one last load of laundry across the street to the cute little laundry that has things ready in a half a day, I went to Ubud Sari Health Resort for a cup of Tea Ibu Marlena. The same tea I had yesterday with the one and only, Ibu Marlena.

For some reason it didn't taste as good today. It was too sweet, but I drank it anyway. I also had a cup of banana coconut pudding. Just mashed bananas and fresh coconut. They said on the menu it was delicious. I am not sure I agree. But it felt healthy.

The restaurant was filled with Aussies who were all doing some sort of cleansing program. They were all talking about their colonics. I found them a bit strange. Half naked old men lounging around in sarongs. It was quite a scene.

I had lunch at my new favorite restaurant Batan Waru. I was planning on having the oxtail soup I had last night for dinner, but when I got there I was really hungry and instead had nasi campur. It was good. I decided to treat myself to desert and had a chocolate tart with raspberry salsa. It was not as good as I thought it would be, but I ate it all.

Then at 1, I had a two hour session with Agung Wijaya. He gave me a good dry massage and then an oil massage and then did some energy work. The only thing I don't like about his place is that there is no shower, so you leave there kind of oily, even though he tries to wipe off the oil. I wish he didn't use oil at all. Still, I felt better when I left than I did when I arrived.

As I was lying there through his treatment I started thinking about a nice spice bath at Zen Spa, so as soon as I finished, I went to Zen Spa but they only had an opening at 4. It was a little after 3 when I got there.

To kill some time I went and looked at Artini 3 which is a little further up the street. It is a beautiful setting looking out over a rice field. The grounds have more steps and levels than Artini 2 and it feels more secluded, even though Artini 2 also feels secluded. I am thinking next time I come here I might try staying there. I wonder if they have the equivalent of a Big Made there - a guy who lounges around and tries to find ways to squeeze extra money out of guests.

After killing a little more time, I returned to Zen for my spice bath.

I had a different guy this time and his massage was okay. I still think as far as massages go, "Made, Yang Made" at Nur Salon gives the best. But the spice rub was very nice. I like the way it gets all hot as they leave you there with it soaking into your skin and then the spice bath was also very nice. It was very hot. I got a good sweat from the whole thing, which I think is what I needed.

For dinner, I decided to try a new restaurant right next to Zen Spa on the main road called Siam Sally. It's right across the street from Pundi Pundi and is the same restaurant group as Batan Waru. I have a card from Batan Waru that gives me a 15% discount as a frequent diner and it was also good for Siam Sally.

At The Pond they little gay guy who is the marketing manager told me I got a 10% discount because I was a returning guest. And then when he found out I stayed at Artini, he told me I got 15% as a guest of Artini (because it is the same owner). But the last time I ate there I got no discount. It was weird. Was I supposed to ask for it? So I like this card that they give you at Batan Waru.

Siam Sally was okay. It was silly for me to try to get Thai food in Indonesia. I kept thinking I could have made it better and tomorrow I will be eating the real thing.

And so I am sitting next to the pool in the dark and the few staff members who work at night are sitting around in a circle and talking quietly. I like it here at night when there are few people around. Only, I don't like the mosquitoes, and they like me.

So, it is time for me to get into my nicely air-conditioned room and begin packing.

He's Not a Man

2009-12-10T16:10:00.000-08:00

I forgot to include this little snippet from my conversation with Ipu Marlena yesterday which was quite comical.

So we had finished with my treatment and I was feeling quite battered, after the scraping the sauna and all of that. I was enjoying my delicious cup of tea while she sat across from me drinking water and chatting.

She likes to talk, and she is very sweet. She is quite a character and I think anyone who comes to Bali and gets to meet her, is in for a real treat.

And so she was telling me stories about herself, like her butcher shop and all of that. But she also told me that she teaches many foreigners. They come to learn from her. This, I believe, was like many of my conversations with Balinese, an invitation for me to consider an offer to spend more money on her - i.e., come back and take classes with her.

I don't know what the classes entail. I guess she would talk a lot about herself.

She told me she had one student, a Canadian guy, who was very smart. He sat for five hours and took notes. Wow, five hours of her talking? What was she talking about?

And then she said, in a slightly more subdued voice, "But I don't think he was a man."

I just kind of raised my eyebrows questioning what she meant by that.

"I mean, not a real man. He was a gay."

I tried not to take offense at her assertion that gay men were not real men because I'm sure she did not mean it the way it came out.

Then she said, "He really liked to wear accessories - bracelets and necklaces and things", and she kind of made a face, suggesting she didn't approve.

But, she said, you couldn't tell, because he seemed normal, only at times he seemed a little feminine.

She concluded by saying again what a good student he was and because she thought he was gay, she felt comfortable spending so much time with him. They would have class in the morning, and then have lunch together and then rest and then have more class in the afternoon. No other student could handle the amount of time he could.

Hello sir, where you go?

2009-12-09T22:09:00.000-08:00

My cold was pretty bad last night and I was afraid it was going into my lungs. I was wheezing and starting to cough. I took more of the cold medicine I got in Barcelona and tried going to sleep early after having a few cups of ginger, lemon and honey tea at Cafe Wayan, but I couldn't sleep well. I didn't want to sleep with the fan because that is how I think I caught the cold, so I put the air-con on instead and got under the covers. I figured as long as air wasn't blowing on me it was not bad. But still I couldn't sleep. When I turned the air-con off I was too hot.

So basically I spent a restless night and as the roosters started crowing and the doves started cooing, signaling the arrival of morning, I turned in my bed and had the feeling of the beginning of a vertigo attack. At first I denied it. It must have been because I was tired and didn't get a good night sleep, but as I lay there, it was clear, the spinning was starting.

So I got up and fished around for my stash of meclizine for these occasions and popped a pill and got back in bed to observe the race between the vertigo and the meclizine.

This time the vertigo won. I was too late.

I made my way to the bathroom just in time to begin a few bouts of the dry heaves (fortunately, the only thing I had in my stomach was the water I used to swallow the pill). And then I had to sit on the bathroom floor waiting for the meclizine to finally kick in.

I think what aggravated it this time was this head cold. If meneire's is caused by a fluid build-up in the inner ear, anything that affects fluid levels, such as a head cold, would most likely bring on an attack.

I'm thinking about looking at the next level of treatment, which involves an injection into my inner ear which would kill off the cells that regulate balance. This would be with the same doctor who removed my tonsils and soft palate and didn't really go over the full pros and cons with me, so first, I need to do my research, but I really don't want to live with the constant threat of puking my guts up.

And so, when I finally got out of bed, a little past 8, I was not in good shape. I had had very little sleep, had a bout of vertigo and still had this cold.

I had my appointment today with Ibu Marlena at Ubud Sari Health Spa, but I wasn't really sure I would be able to make it there. It all depended on whether or not I was able to drive the scooter.

After a light breakfast of fruit, I decided to take my chance, since it was possible she was the person I needed to see today.

I was fine getting there. I drove slowly, there was very little traffic and it was noticeably cooler today (maybe less humid).

When I arrived, she was waiting.

I told her I had a cold and my ear was bothering me. I don't think she understands the ear thing. I don't think anyone does and I'm really doubting there is anyone here who can do anything permanent to fix it.

The session started off pretty much as before, only with less talk. She applied an oil to my face and chest that got warm. She applied another oil and I could smell lemon grass.

And then she started to work on my legs, feet, arms and then chest. She didn't tell me to look this time to see what she had done.

As she was massaging my hands I felt myself sink into the comfort of her care. It was like my grandmother was taking care of me, and I imagined her having done this for her children and grandchildren and many others in her village. Beyond what long term effects, if any, her treatment would provide, in the moment, I was feeling comfort, and that is what I needed.

When she had me turn over on my stomach again she did the several applications of oil, massaged my legs and arms and then began scraping my back. I wasn't sure at first what she was doing, but it hurt. As she continued from my upper shoulders, and down my back and then did the other side, I was aware that she was doing something my acupunturist had done to me once. I wasn't thrilled about having these big red welts on my back for the next few days, but if it could help break the cold, it was fine. Besides, she had almost finished already, so what was I to do?

I felt markedly better from the beginning of the treatment to the end. I gave her 100,000 rupiah tip, as I had before, thinking she would head back home, but instead, she waited as I went to the steam room, then the dry sauna, and then took a hot and cold shower.

When I came out, she told me she had ordered a special tea for me in the restaurant and she led me there and sat and talked to me as I drank it.

The tea was delicious. It was made with ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, and sweetened with palm sugar.

She told me a little more about her life, including that she once had a butcher shop and something about the government letting her use their car that I didn't quite understand. I was really just wanting to rest at that point and not chat over a cup of tea.

And so I left her and as she directed me, I went to find a bowl of soup. I decided to go to a restaurant I had passed many times on this little street that runs between Monkey Forest Road and Jalan Hanoman. I think it is called Dewi Siri Street. I thought the restaurant was Thai, and since most of the Indonesian places I've been to seem to have more Thai soups than Indonesian ones, I thought I'd have better luck getting real Thai soup at a Thai restaurant.

As I parked my moto across the street, a young guy was standing outside of a shop with a bucket. And so began the simple exchange that I've gone through countless times and today was not in the mood for. It's making me want to print up a fact sheet and just hand it to people so they will have the information they need about me to continue on with their day.

It went something like this.

Hello sir, how are you?

Fine, how are you?

Fine, where you going?

I'm not sure.

Ah, to eat?

Yes.

Where are you from?

America.

Ah, America. What's your name?

Rick.

My name is Agung.

(and then he comes down and shakes my hand)

Where do you stay?

Artini.

Artini 2?

Yes, Artini 2.

Ah.

Are you here alone?

Yes.

How long in Bali?

2 weeks.

At that point, I had had enough and simply said, okay Agung, it was nice to meet you, and crossed the street to the restaurant I thought was Thai.

Agung may have been talking to me still as I left. I am not sure.

Turns out the restaurant was not Thai at all, but their signs saying to check out their other restaurant that serves authentic Thai food confused me. They had neither porridge nor Thai soups, which were my first two choices of what to eat. They had broccoli and red lentil. But for some reason they did not tell me they had soto ayam until I asked (when I asked about the soups they only mentioned two). That was what I had in mind, a good bowl of Indonesian chicken soup with tumeric and a pot of mint tea.

It was a nice lunch and I continued to sweat from the treatment and now the addition of these hot liquids to my body. Occasionally, from across the street, Agung would wave to me from his shop. I watched as he put a sarong decorated with pineapples on over his pants, and tied a red sash around his waist, and then went around the shop and placed little offerings of flowers and sprinkled them with water. He came outside and did the same and then went down the street to a big banyan tree and made an offering to the tree.

He returned and took off his sarong (I guess it was just to make offerings) and then busied himself around the store.

Just as I was about to leave, he came outside and sat on the steps of his store.

I really didn't want to get into another exchange with him. I really appreciate the friendliness of the Balinese, but sometimes it's just a little too invasive and almost always involves them wanting me to do something for them - I was sure he had a motive - either to get me to buy something, to arrange for transport to the airport, to help a sick aunt, but I just wasn't buying that his friendship was without strings.

So I waited until he went back in the store and quickly made my way across the street. Within seconds however, he was back outside.

Hello, Rick. Where you go now?

To my hotel. It was nice meeting you!

And with that, I started up my motorbike and sped off, hoping I wasn't too rude.

So after a short nap here at my hotel, I brought my laptop out to the dining area and tried to connect to the internet. It wasn't working. Finally, I asked them to turn off the modem and turn it back on and that did the trick. But it also attracted a few of the guys who were lounging around on their lunch breaks. Two of them came over to see if it was working. When they saw it was, one left, but the other sat down behind me and watched as I opened my e-mail, reading things out loud - a message from my cousin "happy belated birthday"..."sorry to hear about your dad..." I closed it and opened my homepage and read some news, waiting until he left so I could begin blogging.

Finally after clicking around several different pages, he got bored and left me.

I just wonder, do we come off as cold to them as they seem intrusive to us?

I Catch a Cold

2009-12-08T23:58:00.000-08:00

I have another cold. I think in each place I've visited on this trip I have caught one. Fortunately, I have cold medicine I bought in Barcelona. I took some last night to stop the endless drip from my nose so I could get some sleep.

I left 200,000 rupiah on my pillow today for Little Made. He seemed satisfied. I've avoided him most of today. Big Made is ignoring me. I guess he can't think of any way to get money out of me. I've learned that when he approaches me it is because he has a scheme. He's a slime. He should not be running a hotel, or whatever it is he is doing. I guess he doesn't realize that happy guests come back and tell their friends. People who feel like they are walking ATMs are less likely to recommend a place. I actually want to check out Artini 3, which is closer to The Pond and Ubud Wellness Spa. It seems like it might be an even better location (they have a spa too), and there will be no Big Made there! I get the feeling that he is the cousin that everyone tries to help but can't be helped. I'm waiting to see how he will try to get more money out of me when I leave on Saturday or when I return my motorbike.

Today I decided to go for a ride on my moto. The Great Dane told me that if I went further up the road that goes past the rice fields where people appear like magic to sell you things you don't want, you'll eventually come to a road that will take you to fantastic views of a volcano and lake. It sounded like a destination.

What I forgot to account for were the sun and bugs. I should have put sunscreen on my forearms and nose (which are now burnt) and worn my sunglasses to keep bugs out of my eyes.

But anyway, it was an interesting trip. Once I passed the rice fields where there were no people selling things (but I knew if I had stopped they would have appeared), the road narrowed and started an uphill climb. I could feel the temperature getting cooler as I went higher.

I wasn't sure how far I had to go, but the Great Dane told me the road would end and I would have to go right or left. He also told me police would pull me over and ask for money.

So as I headed forward, a guy dressed in black pants and a black jacket rode by in the other direction. He said, "Hello? Where are you going?" I thought he was a police officer. I said, "I don't know. Just exploring."

He pulled something out of his pocket, that I thought was some kind of badge or something. I never got to see it. Instead he told me he had a shop up ahead and just opened today, so wouldn't I visit it and help him?

I told him I wanted to see the mountain and he told me, "you just go straight, and then left, right, right". The Great Dane had told me you go to the end of the road and turn right.

Anyway, I figured I could use a bottle of water, so I agreed to follow this guy to his shop.

It turned out to be quite an elaborate fruit stand with all kinds of wonderful fruits. But I didn't want to buy fruit because I don't have a refrigerator and if I leave them in my room, I'll attract critters I don't want.

He opened a passion fruit and had me try it, then he offered me some mandarin orange. I told him no thank you. I just wanted water. He kept trying to get me to go inside, but I told him I just wanted water. I picked up a Pocari Sweat and he told me it was 7,000 rupiah, which is kind of expensive, but is what I've paid in Ubud. I gave him 20,000 rupiah and waited for my change. He then opened a rambutan (which he called a lychee) and had me taste it. He kept insisting - don't you want bananas? Passion fruit? Finally, I could see my change was not coming, so I told him to give me a few mandarin oranges, I also got a few rambutan and a few mangosteens. I asked him if that was okay, and he said yes.

Then he told me he was from the mountain. He pulled out a map and went into this spiel on what I would see if I went with him. The map had dates showing when the lava flows started. I was wearing flip flops and did not want to be trekking through hot lava in flip flops so I assured him when I come back with my friends, I will look for him. Fortunately, I know how to start my motorbike now, and I just hopped on and left, thanking him for the information.

His information was actually helpful. He told me how to go to avoid the police. The left, right, left, took me to the same place the Dane's right would have, but I didn't have to pay a fine for just being a foreigner on a motorbike in corrupt police territory.

He also told me not to pay for ceremonies on the street. He said, "in a temple okay, but not on the street". I didn't know what he meant, until I passed some women by the side of the street who tried to flag me down so they could do a ceremony with the little offerings to the gods. I just ignored them.

I continued up through alpine forests and finally came to a main road where a huge volcano came into view. I said, "wow" out loud as women on the side of the road started yelling "hello, hello!!!" - they of course, had something to sell.

I found myself in a whole other world. I was in the mountains now and I even saw a person wearing a down coat (!) which I thought was a bit too much, but I imagined it got pretty cool at night. There was a lot of activity. Markets, kids getting out of school (kids always seem to be getting out of school), little mini buses, etc., and there was a lot of traffic. I proceeded on for a while but didn't seem to be getting any closer to the volcano and didn't see any lake. I finally decided I'd had enough and turned around and returned to Ubud.

My nose feels really red and swollen from the cold and now even worse from the sunburn. I had a little adventure today which turned out to be kind of a dud, but still it was fun to get out and see a little more of Bali.

I do have to say the one thing I will miss about Bali are the beautiful smiles. I see them everywhere. People smile so easily here and they seem pretty happy and relaxed. Well, that is, except for Big Made, who seems kind of tense and doesn't have a very nice smile.

Out of gas....

2009-12-08T00:53:00.000-08:00

I don't know if it is the humidity, or if it is just me, but today was a weird day.

It started by me being woken up by the thunderstorm and then having some wild dreams, one that really upset me (about a person I work with). But I finally woke up at 8 and had breakfast and it seemed like it was going to be a normal day.

The same characters were at breakfast and it seemed like the normal goings on were going on, the guys were knocking flowers down from the trees to put on our beds, and the women were making offerings and cooking breakfast.

Big Made seemed to be completely ignoring me this morning. I thought it was very odd, from his initial friendliness, but as I've said before, I think it is better when he leaves me alone because I don't trust him.

Well, I spoke (thought) too soon, because soon he made his way over to me where I was working on my laptop and asked me what I did yesterday. I told him I went to the Barong and Kris performance. He didn't seem to care. It was just an intro.

"What you do today?"

"I'm not sure"

"Shopping?"

"mmmm....maybe, I bought some sarongs yesterday."

And soon, he had convinced me to go with him to a nice little village not far from here where I could buy silver at a good price and see woodcarving.

I wasn't finished yet on the computer but he told me he was ready. So I shut everything down and went to my room where Little Made asked me where I was going. I told him I was going shopping with Big Made.

He told me he was going to get some medicine. He seemed to be hinting around for something. I was playing dumb, because I don't like hints, especially when it comes to my "maid" asking for money.

He was standing in my doorway and every now and then would give a cough for effect. He told me how much the medicine cost, and I think the cost went from 200,000 rp to 600,000 and maybe more, but I wasn't sure because he was speaking in a kind of whisper.

Finally, he came right out and asked if I could help him out.

I was going to give him some money before I left as a tip. I did give him 100,000 rp. the other day, figuring it was for last week ($10), and was going to give him another 100,000. I guess I will give him 200,000, and leave it at that.

It was getting too weird with Big Made inviting me (sort of forcing me) to go silver shopping (and I knew he was getting a commission on whatever I bought if anything) and then the Little Made hitting me up for money for medicine.

So, we went to this village where I was brought to this little workshop and explained how they make silver. It was interesting and the guy was a character. Then I went inside the shop while Big Made lounged around like a sea lion outside reading the newspaper.

I could tell immediately that they didn't have anything I liked. The jewelry was very gaudy and big, nothing any of my friends would like.

I kind of breezed around the store and Big Made came in and said, "slowly". I was starting to get really tired of him.

I found one little opal pendant I kind of liked, but then thought about the whole situation and finally decided I was not going to cave into the pressure, so I told them thanks and left.

The guy who explained the silver-making process was really nice and I told him it is hard to buy jewelry for friends because I don't know their tastes. He totally understood, though Big Made didn't look happy.

Big Made then told me to follow him to the woodworking place, but when we arrived it was closed. He told me he was going back to the hotel and I said I wanted to ride around and take some photos. He told me several times to be careful. I am not sure why. I keep getting the feeling I'm doing something illegal by riding around on this scooter he rented me with an expired driver's license.

I took a few photos and then headed to Cafe Wayan for lunch.

First I stopped to change money. I went to two money changers. The first one had no money. The second one couldn't find the clerk. So I walked and found a third one. It was a nice air-conditioned antique shop and there was a nice, healthy looking dog inside (rare to see... healthy looking dogs that is).

I gave the guy two hundred dollars and he spent what seemed like an infinity examining them. Then he handed one back to me and said it was no good. I asked him what the problem was. He said the paper was no good.

I told him it was from my bank, which it was. I knew my bank would not give me counterfeit bills. I held it up and could see the watermark of Ben Franklin's face which I know you cannot counterfeit. I showed it to him and said, "look, you can see the face, that is how you know it is real" and showed him the other bill which when you held it up to the light looked the same.

He hemmed and hawed and I was getting really irritated. He was really pissy and seemed like he didn't want to change my money. I was getting ready to tell him it was okay, I would go somewhere else, when he finally made the exchange.

But even after he gave me the money, he continued to examine the bills. He had me write my name, passport number and hotel name and once again said, "this one no good".

I said, "look, if you don't want to change my money, I can go to another place", and he said, "okay", meaning, it was okay. But I still don't trust him. Now I am waiting for him to come here with a fake bill claiming it is the one I gave him. I should have had him write the serial numbers on my receipt.

Finally, I got to Cafe Wayan. I had the nasi campur again, and it was as good as yesterday.

I had decided I was going to Nur Salon for a massage to avoid coming back to the hotel and facing either Made. I didn't know what was inspiring both of them to suddenly look at me as an ATM, but I was hoping it would pass in a day.

As I headed up Monkey Forest Road my moto suddenly stopped. I tried starting it and it would not start. My gas gauge said "E", but I thought it was broken because it said "E" before and I opened the tank and there was still gas. This time I opened it up and it was bone dry. Whoops!

I saw some guys sitting by the side of the road waiting to say, "taxi? Maybe tomorrow?" and asked them where I could get gas. They said Jalan Hanoman and I was afraid they were talking about the gas station past The Pond, which would have been really far to push the bike.

I passed some other guys on the corner who were very aggressive and all wanted to help me (of course for a price). I really don't like Monkey Forest Road because everyone seems so aggressive to get something from tourists.

One guy tried turning the bike sideways but that didn't help. The other scowled at me because I wouldn't accept their offers to leave the bike and go get some petrol to bring back.

I preferred to do it on my own without any $trings attached.

I pushed my moto down this little street that runs between Monkey Forest Rd. and Jalan Hanoman, and as soon as I got to Hanoman Rd, there was a guy selling gas in bottles. I got one large bottle which filled the tank about half-way and cost me 12,000 rp (about $1.20). I would have probably paid much more if one of those guys had helped me.

I had a wonderful massage with the same guy I had before at Nur. His name is "Made, Yang Made". It reminded me of "Bond, James Bond", the way he said it (he said it the same way the last time). I told him my name was Rick but he had a hard time with that, so I told him Ketut, and he referred to me as Mr. Ketut from then on.

The massage was great, and I got a tamarind scrub. I think I've had enough scrubs. I could feel my skin kind of burning from all of the exfoliation and the sun. From now on, only massages. I might do one more with "Made, Yang Made".

When I finished it was 3 and I knew the boys would still be knocking down leaves and sweeping, so I went to the gas station and filled up my tank. It cost me a dollar more. I then passed Ubud Wellness Spa. I had seen their flyer in our lobby and knew they had an aloe vera facial, so I drove into their driveway to check it out.

It was a really nice newish spa. I think as far as design goes, it's my favorite so far. They have little individual massage rooms, some with two massage tables, all with a bath and shower and all looking out onto some nice greenery and statues (each room has a different statue in its window).

The facial was great and I now really do look like I am 40 (and I feel like it too!)

Big Made just came over to me to whine about not having any money. I don't know what he wants.

And so, today was a mixed bag. Weird stuff with people and running out of gas and money changers and wonderful spa treatments. I guess this is Ubud.

Death By Chocolate, 4 Handed Massage, Barong and Kris

2009-12-08T00:36:00.001-08:00

It seems like I am doing a lot, but really, I'm not. Or am I?

I have to make two blog entries, one for yesterday and one for today.

Yesterday, I started out looking for Sehati Guest House and Spa. I thought I knew where it was, and I did, but where I thought it was was not where it was. I drove around the block three times, down Monkey Forest Road and back down Jalan Hanoman and back to Monkey Forest Road again. Funny thing is I passed it each time because I wasn't looking in the right spot. I stopped and asked some of the guys on the side of the road who say, "taxi? Maybe tomorrow?" and they told me where it was and then I remembered. And then I did one of my favorite things, I said to them, "do you need transport?" - they got a big laugh out of it, and one of them joked, "how much?" as he faked getting on the back of my motorbike. It was fun turning the tables to them and they were good sports about it.

So, I finally found it and had a four-handed massage.

Sehati is not really a spa, it's like a store front. It was a little weird. Also, I prefer men to women. For me, women do not go deep enough and when they try, it hurts. Men seem to be able to apply the right amount of pressure for me and I like the fleshiness of their hands. It's just my preference.

So having two women work on me at the same time was at times annoying and at times very nice. When they were doing long strokes it was great having them work in tandem, but when they were trying to go deep and I felt fingernails or bones digging into me, it wasn't pleasurable at all. Plus, one of the women made a big deal out of me. Everything about me.

"What is your name?"

"Rick"

"Oooooh!"

I don't know what the "ooooh" was for.

They she said things like, "Ooooh, strong body", several times and I felt like she was coming on to me. She asked how old I was and when I told her 50, she said, "ooooh, look like 40...oooooh strong body....."

They offered me a shower, but I just wanted to get out of there and settled for the hand washing and left.

Then I headed to Cafe Wayan for lunch. I had a nice nasi campur and papaya lassi and was planning on a piece of death by chocolate cake, but I was too full, and I am trying not to gorge. So I told them I would be back.

I came back to my hotel after looking around for some souvenirs and buying some expensive sarongs (I remember them being cheaper in Sumatra). I also arranged my transport to the airport on Saturday from the guy I bought the sarongs with. He and his wife ran a little shop up the street, and were very nice. They showed me an Obama button they have for good luck!

I took a little swim, hung out by the pool and did some internet stuff and then went back to Cafe Wayan for my cake.

Death by chocolate is enough to kill you, that's for sure. A really rich piece of chocolate cake, almost like fudge, with chocolate sauce.

The thing is though, afterwards I was still hungry, but I thought the folks at Cafe Wayan would think I was strange for ordering dinner after my cake, so I went up the street to Bumi Bali because they have a cooking school and I thought I'd try their food.

I got some typical Balinese food that wasn't that good. It was okay, but it was a little dry and bland.

Then I came back and got my ticket for the Barong and Kris performance across the street. The lovely woman who hangs out outside of our entrance selling tickets sold me my ticket and at 6:50 I crossed the street for the 7 p.m. show.

It was one of my favorite performances so far, even though I loved the kecak. I liked the venue, which is kind of a temple that we're not supposed to enter without a sarong (they made an exception for the performance), it was well lit, and the gamelan orchestra was not amplified (it was loud enough). Also, most of the performers in the orchestra were really young, like maybe 14, 15 or so (though it's hard to tell) and they were really good, very focused and the music was not bad either.

The performance was great. There were all kinds of weird characters. A big monster, a monkey, two funny guys who did this kabuki like narration, a few other weird characters and a big shaggy thing that was supposed to be evil but looked like "Cousin It" on the Munsters. It was really fun. The costumes were great and the music was bearable. I really enjoyed it.

I came back and hung out in my room a bit before going to sleep, only to be woken up by a major thunderstorm that seemed to last all night. It was really loud and a little disturbing and I ended up having some pretty wild dreams since I was woken up several times.

That was not a bad day.

Artini 2

2009-12-06T22:49:00.000-08:00

I just love Artini 2. That is where I am staying. I call it my hotel, but it is more like a family compound, only a little spruced up (some of the family compounds I've seen have been pretty shabby looking and usually have chickens and other animals running around).

How can I describe it?

First of all, it seems to be set in a valley or maybe what you would call a ravine? Maybe not so good as chi goes (or air-flow), but it seems fine to me. On one side is a rice field, which is set up at street level, and on the other side is a family compound, I think the owner's, also at street level, so we are below street level.

You walk down a path from the road to reach the reception desk, which is next to the pool. Alongside the pool is the dining area where we are served breakfast, and if we wanted could get food at any time of day.

There are a few cottages above the reception area but further back in the grounds there are clusters of buildings. Each building has maybe four rooms to it. Two below and two above. The bottom rooms have air-con, but the upper rooms, since they get breezes off the rice field, don't (and are cheaper). Of course, they also have a view.

I just love hanging out here, and normally I don't like spending a lot of time in a hotel.

The day starts early, maybe 6 or 7 a.m. I usually hear Made cough, so I know they have arrived. The guys are wearing green sarongs, a dark green one under a lighter green printed one, lime green shirts and lime green head scarves. They are usually engaged in their morning activities, by the time I get up. This involves picking flowers for our rooms, sweeping up anything that has fallen during the night and maybe knocking leaves from trees (they knock down the leaves that are going to fall soon so they can sweep them up). It is amazing how much attention they give to keeping the place clean, but also how much attention it needs. With so many trees, things are always falling.

One guy has been trimming the grass outside of my cottage all week, with shears. He hunches down and clip, clip, clip, all morning.

But when we wake up and make our way to the breakfast area, they convert into our waiters. I think they take turns doing it. They take our order and then hang around until we are finished so they can clear our dishes.

There are two or three women working here as well. In the morning, they prepare the offerings for the gods and go about the complex putting out these little trays of flowers, rice and crackers, which the doves soon devour.

Then I guess they go to the kitchen and cook our breakfast.

After breakfast, the women clean up the dining area, sweep and mop and I guess do other things behind the scenes, like maybe laundry.

The men clean our rooms. Made is my dedicated servant and he usually comes and gets my key if I am still hanging around. Even though there are signs asking us to conserve energy by turning off our fans and air-con, they still are not doing what most hotels do and each day we get fresh sheets and towels. It is really a shame. I could sleep on the same sheets all week.

Once the guys finish with the rooms, they continue with the grounds-keeping, a big part of which is knocking leaves down from trees with a big stick. It's quite a funny thing to see. Right now, it is 3 p.m. and they are still at it. Also one guy is dusting the reception area.

I usually leave by then and don't know how the rest of the morning unfolds, but when I get back, they have usually changed into their afternoon wear. Made wears shorts and a t-shirt, the same shorts and t-shirt every day. The guy who usually cuts the grass wears jeans and a black t-shirt with orange writing. The same one every day.

They seem to have a lunch break during which time they hang out in the back of the dining area and make a lot of noise! Indonesian (perhaps they are speaking Balinese?)is a very staccato language and sounds a lot like chickens clucking. It is amazing how noisy it can get.

Today was quite comical because they were chattering away, several people at a time and all of a sudden they switched to English. One guy said, "listen for me" and the other guy, mocking his mistake said, "ok, I will listen for you" (he meant to say listen "to" me). Then again the chatter was interrupted when one guy started singing and they all joined in. It was a very sweet, beautiful ballad.

When their lunch break was finished, they emerged to continue with their grounds-keeping, and the women just hung around. I guess most of their work was done.

They work so hard and I never see them complain or say "ugh" or even wipe their brows.

Soon they will all change into their street clothes and leave and a new crew will come in. It seems the night crew just sits by the pool and chats all night, but I don't really know.

And of course, there is Big Made who lounges around like a sea lion on a pier wearing a sarong and head scarf and chats up new guests, I guess so he can try to sell them "his paintings" or talk them into a motorbike or tours or whatever.

Aside from all of the people, there are also these beautiful doves that hang around. They start cooing early in the morning and wake me up if I am not up already, and they attack the offerings as soon as they are put out, and then the rest of the day they lounge by the pool, sipping the water, cleaning themselves and eventually returning to their resting areas for the evening. There are some other beautiful birds that fly around and I've seen an amazing lizard hanging out on the wall at the far end of the pool. He is beautifully camouflaged and is mostly the color of the rocks with spots of green to match the little moss growing on them.

I guess at this point I have been here the longest. There are a few other long-time guests. One American guy who looks like he is a police or Army officer. He looks very stern, has short-cropped hair, a big mustache and wears mirrored sunglasses. There is a hippiesh French couple who are here buying stuff to sell in a shop they have in Paris. The woman looks kind of like Katie Segall, the woman on Married with Children (though not as trashy) and the husband has the biggest mullet I have ever seen. His hair looks almost normal on the top, front and sides, but in the back there is a huge party going on and his curly hair goes almost halfway down his back. They sit around and smoke cigarettes when they are not out shopping.

And then there is a great Dane. He reminds me of a golden retriever. He's very friendly and a little high-strung. He is always talking, wagging his tail and visiting with everyone here. I got stopped by him yesterday after my ride on my moto and he kept me talking for about 30 minutes until I told him I needed to get something to drink. He was in the pool and I was standing in the hot sun. He's very nice and also quite interesting, but it amazes me how he can talk about anything.

At first I didn't like him because he was talking about all of the Chinese tourists who you see out and about now. It is quite remarkable. When I was in Europe I was reading this book from my taxi driver in SF that was written in the 70's when China and Russia were still hard to get into, and impossible to get out of. Now you see large groups of Chinese and Russians. I say, "welcome to the world!"

But this guy was talking about how they walk around with their noses in the air and this air of superiority (and he was speaking to the French couple!) and said, they are like American tourists in the 50s. I don't know what he meant by that, but I found it kind of insulting (at that time I thought he was French).

I don't know much about him because even though he talks a lot he doesn't reveal much about himself other than how much he knows. He speaks Indonesian fluently and he seems to be an expert on any subject.

Right now it is pretty quiet here except for the sounds of the guys finishing sweeping up. All of my fellow travelers are out doing something in the hot sun no doubt, the French couple is probably shopping and the Danish guy is probably talking to someone.

And that is life at Artini Cottages, or as the locals call it Artini 2. It is a lovely home away from home, and even though I can't cook or use internet in my room, I think this is by far the best place I've stayed at on my four month travels so far. The people are great, the pool is a nice touch and the price can't be beat!

Country Road Take Me Home....

2009-12-05T23:32:00.000-08:00

I got lost today.

It wasn't a big deal, and I guess it is good that it happened so that I could see it wasn't a big deal. But, I am still hesitant to go very far on my motorbike. Maybe that's also a good thing.

I first headed north, going straight up Monkey Forest Road and continuing straight out of town. It was the kind of country road I was looking for. The past few times I've gone out for a spin on my moto, I have found myself on kind of main roads with a lot of traffic, lined by shops selling all of the stuff you can find in the shops on Hanoman Rd. It doesn't make for a very scenic ride. Add in the traffic, other motorbikes, trucks, and people pulling out from shops, driveways and side streets, and it's not the leisurely ride in the country I had hoped to find (I was really spoiled by my rides in Sumatra - that is what I want here....)

But this road, was different. It was not lined with shops, but rather villages and village life. There were some hotely looking places, but mostly it was locals, doing the things locals do - women carrying baskets on their heads and walking down the road, men building or farming, and dogs. Dogs everywhere, but mostly just lying in the middle of the road oblivious to anyone passing in any sort of vehicle (well, most of them were oblivious). Some barked at me and kind of scared me and one had his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and didn't look too healthy. There were a lot of dogs.

I drove for a while and it became more and more rural, and poorer. I saw people washing clothes by the side of the road in a little stream that ran in the gutter. I saw people bathing in a river and thought how lucky I am to not have to do that. Eventually I came to the end of the road and had to turn right or left. That is when I turned around. I was afraid it would be too difficult for me to retrace my steps.

I didn't want to return right away to my hotel and just hang around by the pool (even though that is a totally worthwhile thing to do), so I rode by Wayan Nusuriah's place. My stomach has still been feeling a little off, though I think it is from the antibiotics I finished yesterday. Still, I thought maybe she had some potion I could drink that would help my stomach chi.

It didn't look like her shop was fully open yet. The metal gate was only partially opened, yet, she already had a crowd inside. I think she is too much of a celebrity now, so I guess I won't be going there.

Instead, I went to Zen Spa and asked for a Mandi Lular treatment. It is a royal bath that also includes massage and a tumeric rub. It was royal indeed. First I had an oil-less massage and then a massage with oil and then the tumeric rub and then a flower-filled bath.

My room didn't have a view of the garden, but it was still quite luxurious for only about $16 USD!

From there I was planning on going across the street to The Pond for lunch. I had a hankering for gado-gado, since I haven't had any decent gado2 since I've been here. But I was kind of sweating still from the massage and instead went for a ride south on my moto. I went until I found some nice rice fields, took some photos and then headed to lunch.

I really like The Pond. It feels like *my* place. Often I am the only one there. Last night, there was one table of Indonesian guys who might have been the owners or somehow related to the owners, because they thanked me when I left, but I now have learned that lunch time at The Pond is quite a different scene. TOUR GROUPS! The other day when I was there, there was a big German tour group, and today there was a big Chinese group (they could have been from Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore or some other country outside of Mainland China though).

I was sitting in my favorite little seat that looks out onto the rice field, my back to the restaurant, when suddenly I heard a major commotion behind me. I turned around and saw the throng of people that had just entered. There was all kinds of shouting and negotiating about where people were going to sit. I felt like I was in a market place. The staff came over several times and apologized, but really, it was fine. I was glad to see they were busy, but it was nice that they were concerned for me, their best customer!

I hated having my back to all of the action, so I turned around to change directions, partly so I could watch them, and also because I was tired of looking at the people in Pundi Pundi across the little pond. The Chinese tour group was much more interesting.

I don't know why Chinese people take their shoes off when they sit down. A lot of my students do it too. Not only Chinese, but also Vietnamese. I'll be explaining some grammar point and look down and see all of these bare feet hanging in mid air. They hang in mid air because usually the people attached to them are too short to reach the ground when they sit.

And so was the scene at The Pond today. Lots of bare feet dangling in mid air, with very tattered and worn looking shoes thrown on the ground below.

Even though I had arrived first, their food started coming out. They all got a big tray of food with the special Balinese duck, rice, vegetables, soup, juice and a few pieces of satay. I was jealous! It looked like quite the feast!

As soon as the food was distributed, things quieted down. You could hear a pin drop. I liked that they didn't talk while they were eating, though it was quite the sight to see them gnawing on those ducks. They were really enjoying themselves.

My gado-gado was kind of a disappointment. Maybe Balinese gado-gado is different. When I got it at Nomad it was similar. This time the cabbage was rolled and filled with green beans, bean sprouts and some Chinese cabbage type leaf. I found it hard to eat. My favorite kind of gado-gado is just a big salad with steamed cabbage, green beans, potatoes, boiled eggs, etc., all covered with peanut sauce.

I will keep searching.

After lunch I decided I would try the one road out of Ubud I hadn't tried yet, and that was going East.

I headed down Ubud Main Road to the big statue and found that instead of going straight like I wanted to, I had to turn right or left. I had already turned left before, so I went right.

It was another one of those busy roads, lined with shops, only these shops were more geared to locals. Little food stalls, and other kinds of shops. I continued on, having to make a few turns when the road came to a T, until finally I passed some rice fields, stopped to take some photos and turned around and headed back.

My destination seems to be rice fields. When I find them, I document them and then I can head home.

Only, on my return, I came to a place that didn't look familiar. I thought I had to turn and I did. And then as I continued, came to a big Buddha statue that I knew I had not seen before and finally realized I was lost.

I drove into a gas station and said, "Ubud?", and they pointed in the direction that I had just came from. One guy said, "North", as if that helped me, since I had no compass on me.

And so I turned around and headed the other way. North, I guess.

I passed a big banyan tree with a market across from it. I thought I had passed that before I got lost, so I turned around and headed in the other direction, south, I guess, but that didn't look right, so I turned around again. Locals sitting around doing nothing, were intrigued, I am sure, by this guy on a dusky rose colored scooter wearing a helmet that looked like something from the British Army during WWI.

This time I continued north and came to the cross road where I made my wrong turn and this time turned the other way and soon started to recognize things and knew I was going in the right direction.

It was a little scary being lost and having nothing that would help guide me home. There are no road signs as far as I can tell, and outside of Ubud, all of the town names sound the same to me - foreign. Even though Indonesian is written with a roman script, it doesn't help when you don't know what things mean.

I finally made it back to my hotel where we now have wifi! I can't access it from my room, so I am sitting next to the pool, but it sure beats the internet cafe next to the hotel where the guy listens to the same song over and over again (it is a nice song, but 100 times can be a bit much with ANY song), or the other place that has air-con where I met Epi, but the past few times I've been there, the skittish little girl has been working and she makes me very nervous. The other day when I was there, instead of sitting behind her desk, she was walking around the very tiny space looking very distressed. She went in the back and I thought she was going to prepare the offerings for the gods like Epi usually did, but instead came out with a calendar. The calendar system is very complex here and there are good days and bad days (Made was supposed to go to his healer on his day off, Thursday, but it was not a good day to be healed, so he changed days off and went on Friday). She looked at the calendar and then said something out loud in Indonesian and smiled. It was a big odd.

Then she put the calendar back and sat playing with a plastic chair. The chair was making farting noises as she pushed it across the tile floor.

Finally, seeming disgusted, she sighed, got up and went and sat outside. I felt like I was keeping her from something, so I signed off and opened the door and said, "finished" and she came in and told me how much I owed.

So, I am glad to have internet at the hotel, even if it isn't in my room. I get to sit here and watch my hotel mates. A blog is coming about them soon.

And so, with one more week in Bali, my question remains, "what kind of treatment will I have tomorrow?" I could have a repeat, but I think I might like to try something I haven't had yet, like a four-handed massage or a hot stone massage, or an aloe facial. Hmmm.... so many choices....

Agung Wijaya

2009-12-04T23:52:00.001-08:00

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.

My Balinese Healer

2009-12-04T17:03:00.000-08:00

Today I went to Ubud Sari Spa for my appointment with the traditional Balinese psychic healer. My friend Yaari told me she went there and had a black widow spider removed from her aura by a healer. I was not sure it was the same one, but it seemed like it was. I was hoping, as I always am, that someone in this line of "alternative" healers I see will find a way to relieve me of this thing called meniere's that Western medicine seems unable to cure and can only partially treat.

Since my flare up the other day that sent me to the Toya clinic, I've been pretty good, though I am always feeling like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and one strong wind can push me over, meaning, I always feel like a spell of vertigo is imminent and unpredictable.

I was feeling slightly off this morning after breakfast, as I usually do. I was about to lie down under the ceiling fan for a bit and rest, but I was too excited about my session with the Traditional Balinese Psychic healer. Instead, I walked down the street to make an appointment with Agung Wijaya, the guy who did my multi-dimensional healing the other day. I made an appointment to see him tomorrow for a three hour Balinese healing which includes all kinds of leaves, herbs, roots, etc., as well as massage, psychic scanning, reiki and energy work. So far, the longest session I have done has been two hours. I think I'm ready for the works!

After making my appointment, I hopped onto moto, which I am really appreciating having now, even though I am still morally opposed to the idea of it, it's hella convenient! I rode down past the Monkey Forest where a few monkeys had wandered out to the parking lot. They looked kind of cute out there away from the hordes of others in their own habitat where I felt they had the advantage, being able to swing from trees and jump out of bushes and all that. Here they were just hanging out in the parking lot. One big one and one baby looking very defenseless and vulnerable (though probably waiting to pounce on someone with bananas before the others could get to them).

Soon I was at Ubud Sari Spa, 30 minutes early!

It is an older slightly funky place compared to some of the newer spas, well, wait, I guess I haven't been to a newer spa, so this had a kind of 70's feel to it, kind of Moosewood Cookbook era, even though the sign said it was founded in 1996. It looks like they have their own little organic garden and they also have yoga classes. I imagined brown rice and tempeh burgers being popular there.

They told me Ipu Marlina had not arrived yet, but as I was sitting there an old woman came walking in wearing socks and flip flops (which I always find a really odd looking combination). I thought it might be her, but it looked like she went in the kitchen. Pretty soon after she arrived, they escorted me to the lockers.

I was told to lock my valuables in the lockers behind the front desk. I put my laptop and wallet (I had my laptop because I was planning on catching some wifi for lunch) and carried my backpack and helmet. I was led to another set of lockers where I put my clothes, backpack and helmet and wondered why I didn't just lock everything in one locker. Was Ubud Sari Spa a dangerous place?

I was given a sarong, which I tied around my waist, and led to my treatment room where I met Ipu Marlina. Ipu means mother (I was later told by her).

I thought she was going to do a psychic scan and cleanse my aura. I was thinking of the pranic healing I had in Argentina last year about this time when I was not touched at all and suspected the woman was reading People en Español for the entire hour. Instead Ipu Marlina first chatted with me.

When I told her my name she said it reminded her of the singer. "Who?", I asked. "Ricky Nelson", she said. That was so funny because he is who I was named after. Maybe she was psychic!

She reminded me of an elderly Indonesian student I had last semester named Flora. She spoke English with the same intonation and rolled rrrrs that Florrra spoke with. She was sweet, but acted like an old woman, searching through her purse for things that seemed really difficult to find, losing her train of thought, etc. I thought it would be an interesting session.

She asked me to write my name and address in her little book, which I did. We exchanged information. She asked where I was from. I asked where she was from. She said she is from Bali but her parents were from Java. Her mother from one island in Java and her father from another.

She never asked me about any problems I was having or why I was there. No one has so far, but I figured since she was a "healer" she might be curious, but then again she was psychic, so she would soon figure it out if she hadn't already.

She then told me to take off the sarong and lie down face up. Boy, I felt self-conscious being butt naked in front of those male masseuses, but here I was stripping in front of a grandmother. Well, I thought, she's probably seen lots of naked men by now. Fortunately, after I was on the table, she bunched up the sarong and put it on my private parts. Finally, the grape leaf I was hoping for!

She started by applying a spicy oil to my face, and then all over my body. It smelled like turmeric and other spices. Again with the curry making!

After that, she applied another oil, this one smelled like lemongrass. Perhaps we were making a Thai green curry!

I lost track, but she may have then pulled out another oil. She then started massaging my right foot and leg. It was a nice massage, not too strong or painful. She seemed to be working kind of intuitively, as she seemed to know where I needed to be touched, which areas needed extra attention. She worked quickly and it seemed automatically. All of the fumbling and confusion she exhibited earlier were no longer present.

When she finished she picked my leg up and dropped it on the table. She repeated this two more times. Then she said, "Do you want me to show you what I did?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, but of course, I had to say yes.

She told me to sit up.

"Look at your legs", she said, "what do you see?"

I wanted to say, "two legs", but I knew that wasn't the answer she was looking for. To be honest I was kind of in a massage haze. I had been lying with my eyes closed and it took a while for them to adjust to the light.

She got tired of waiting and said, "you see, this one is thin, the other is puffy". I could see it! She also pointed out that the color of one was light and the other one dark (light being the good one). It was amazing. I wasn't sure if she was simply suggesting the difference and therefore I was seeing it, or if it was really there.

She then did the same thing to my other leg and when she was done, told me to look. Again it looked slim. No more cankles (which I discovered to my horror in the 360 degree full-length mirror in the elevator of my hotel in Bangkok), but nice slim legs that worked their way down to slimmer and nicely defined ankles. I was hoping she would have the same success with my mid-section which at times looks like I'm four months pregnant.

She repeated the same process with my hands and arms. At this point she became chatty. I usually don't like to chat during a massage and the worst for me is a masseuse who asks a lot of inappropriate questions (are you married?, how much money do you make?, etc...) Fortunately, she was just talking and not asking too much of me, though when she did ask if I was married and I told her no, she said, "oh, free".

She told me the fleshy part between my thumb and index finger was swollen and asked me to feel the difference between mine and hers. Yes, it was different, but she was a 71 year old woman and I was a pudgy 50 year old man. She gave me a lecture about taking care of myself, eating well, etc. She asked my blood type (which I think is O) and told me that with my blood type I could eat meat. That's good. She said no fat though. I guess she doesn't realize that a lot of meat has fat, but I think she was talking about oils and added fats. She told me that for the Balinese, when you are over 50 you are .... I forget what she said, but her point was that over 50 is a new stage of life, and you should act accordingly. She said it is the time to think about yourself. I imagine this is because until then you are raising children and working and all and by 50 your kids are grown and you can have a life again. In my case, this didn't seem to apply. I've had my whole life to think about myself, but it doesn't mean I've taken the best care of myself.

Each time I closed my eyes, she'd start talking again. I thought it would be rude to not talk, so I opened my eyes and we chatted. Plus, she was interesting and really sweet.

She told me she didn't know where her grandmother was from, but that maybe she was European. That is where she got the name, Marlina, she was named after Marlena Dietrich, or maybe her grandmother, or both (I kind of got confused there).

She said she has a lot of students who come to her to learn healing. I asked her how she learned and she said she didn't. "I didn't learn", she said. She just knew what to do, even from when she was a young baby. She said people in her village would come to see her. Sometimes they would place her hands on places on their body where they needed to be healed. She said she had a lot of friends who followed her around all the time. People came to her for a healing and had no money to pay. Later they would bring fruit or coconuts or food. Either she was making this all up or she was indeed someone special. I was moved by the story because I have been reading so much about people in poor countries with no access to medical care. At least the people in her village had her.

She was also hinting about me traveling around to different places in Bali and then later she was more direct about offering her services as a tour guide. While I thought it would be interesting, I really wasn't in the mood to go traveling anywhere, and especially with a 71 year old Traditional Balinese Psychic Healer. She probably would have been climbing mountains with me lagging behind all puffy and sweating and out of breath.

After she had finished massaging my face with more oil, she grunted something. I had my eyes closed because she had been massaging my face. I opened them and saw she was holding a little mirror in a big, elaborate tropical-themed frame. I could barely make out my face in the small mirror, but from what I saw was I was smiling. I don't know if I was smiling because I was blissed-out or because I thought it was funny the way she was holding this frame with parrots, orchids and bananas in front of my face, or both. She said, "you like?" and I said yes. "10 years younger", she cooed. I only wished it were true and long-lasting. I imagined what I would look like after my 18 hours of flying back to SF.

She told me other stories about people she knew, things she had done, and at one point made me sit up to look at a bird with a red beak. I was lying on my stomach now, with my butt fully exposed, the sarong off to one side. She said, "Do you want to see a bird?" - I thought perhaps I had a bird-shaped birthmark on my leg or she had perhaps pulled a bird out of my aura. I said, "huh?", and she said, "Look outside".

I looked outside. The treatment room looked out onto a very murky river which was backed by a mini jungle. I had seen a small crocodile swimming out there when we were first sitting and chatting, but as I lifted my head up, I could not see any bird. "Up more", she said. So I strained and lifted my head up off the table and finally was able to see a beautiful blue bird with a funny red beak.

When the massage was finished she had me stand up and put the sarong on (finally!) and she showed me some exercises. They reminded me of the kind of exercises my Chinese seniors did in one class I had. Circle your arms, circle your head, put your hands on your knees and circle your knees. Each time she would say, "that will be all" and then "do you feel warm there?" and of course I did.

Even though I was disappointed that she didn't find any spiders or snakes or other creepy things that she cleared from my aura, or that she didn't even mention my aura, I really enjoyed my time with her. I felt it was really special and an experience that only she could give me. Sure some of the other massage therapists might be trained and know fancy techniques and all, but this woman was a local treasure, and how lucky was I to have her here and available to work on me.

I felt bad because she said she doesn't get any clients anymore. She has returned to working in the fields. She said she used to get four or five clients per day and now she has none. So because of that, and the fact that I felt she was indeed a special person with a real gift, I decided to book another session with her.

I asked her if next time she could try to help me with a problem I have with my ear. She said, sure, but that she already did work on it a little.

Hmmm....

Danger! Men With Cameras!!!

2009-12-03T19:58:00.001-08:00

The digital age has spurned yet another annoyance. Beyond cell phone conversations that are too loud, texting that is too constant, hackers, spam and all that we have more or less become accustomed to, there is a new annoyance in town, or out of town maybe – men with cameras.

I first noticed them in Europe, but didn’t appreciate the full significance of them since I was too busy trying to get away from the large tour groups they populated. At that time I just noticed that there were people with very big cameras, which I thought was strange, since the digital revolution, I thought, made it possible to carry small, inconspicuous cameras and still get great quality pictures. But there they were, in their three-quarter length shorts with Teva sandals (or some similar type), their shorts usually tan, beige or khaki, easy wash, no iron, looking already like they had stepped out of a travel catalogue, with these big cameras hanging off their necks. I had read all of the travel advisories before going to places like Rome and the main advice was to be inconspicuous, don’t stick out, don’t dress like a tourist. It seemed a lot of people hadn’t read or maybe just hadn’t taken this advice, and the cameras only made it seem even more like they had a giant neon sign flashing above their head saying “I’M A TOURIST – ROB ME!!!”

When I first became aware of the men with cameras phenomenon was in Bangkok in my cooking class. I thought it was an anomaly, just a geeky Chinese guy from Malaysia with a four inch sprout of hairs growing out of a mole on his face (it was really hard to look at his eyes – the hairs were begging to be braided, curled or maybe given a few highlights they were so long and prominent). He had a gigantic camera. I guess it’s what is called an SLR, kind of like the old 35 mm cameras people used to lug around. I had several 35 mm cameras in my lifetime, but also I went to school to study photography, and in a way, I had a license to carry one. These men are unlicensed, and that is what I think makes them so dangerous.

Anyway this Malaysian guy with the very prolific growth of hair sprouting out of the mole on his face really got to annoy me after a few days, well actually, just one day, of cooking class. Unfortunately for me, he was taking 7 days of classes and I was taking 6. We both started on the same day.

I noticed him at first when I was waiting in the waiting area outside of the Blue Bar drinking my cool, complimentary herbal drink (lemongrass). The Blue Elephant is in a beautiful old Sino-Portuguese building and it is very photogenic. When I got there I snapped a few photos, as did most people who passed through, but this guy, I will call him Lee, because I think that might have been his name, came in and immediately it was like he was on a photo shoot for Architectural Digest. He took several shots each of the same thing and must have shot about 100 photos in the few minutes that we had to wait until we were escorted upstairs to the cooking demonstration room.

As I said, his camera was huge and it had a very fat, long lens. I didn’t understand any of it – the size of his camera, the length or width of his lens or why he was taking so many photos of the same thing. Perhaps he was a photo-journalist and was doing a story on the Blue Elephant?

And then there were the photos he took after the cooking demonstration. The routine was they chef would demonstrate the recipe, we’d taste it, and then we’d go off to make it ourselves in the practice room. I took photos of my own creations, as did Lee, but for some reason, he also had to take several photos, at different angles, of the demonstration food. This unfortunately started a tradition among the other students, especially the men, who I thought maybe felt that they had to compete or just copy? I’m not sure, but it usually meant we had to stand there for several minutes while everyone took their photos before we could taste this delicious looking meal that was set out in front of us. Only one day, there was a gloriously chubby British girl who didn’t care who was taking photos, she just dug in right away, and I immediately followed (by that time, I'd had it up to my ears with Lee’s photography habit).

Here in Ubud, I began to think that maybe the big camera phenomenon was an Asian male thing. I guess it is stereotypical, but since I had forgotten about the Germans and French and Russians and whoever else were in those tour groups that I avoided as best I could, the only men I was seeing with these large cameras were Asian. In Ubud, I noticed for the first time that it was mainly men. They’d be walking around taking a zillion pictures while their girlfriends sat and waited for them, often snapping one or two photos on their i-phone or cute, dainty little digital camera, usually some metallic pink, purple or Hello Kitty model.

Last night I went to the Kecak fire dance again. I enjoyed it so much the first time I thought I would do it again. This one was in a different venue and with a different dance troupe, so I thought it might be different. Indeed it seemed it was. The men seemed to be joking a little more than the first group I saw, who seemed more serious. Also the story seemed somewhat different.

The part of the dance I enjoy the most is the men sitting in a circle, shirtless, with black and white checked sarongs around their waists, a flower behind one ear, and white dots painted on their temples and one in the center of their forehead. They do this kecakecakecakecakecakecak and whoo whoo whoo whoo sound that I think is supposed to be the sounds of monkeys and the jungle. One man sings in a very high kabuki like voice. Traditionally, the men are supposed to enter a trance. I would like to see just that. Just the kecakecakecakecak…. and men entering a trance. But since the 1930's, I guess that is when Western tourists “discovered” Bali and the trance dance was altered, a story from the Ramayana was overlaid using the kecak as the soundtrack. The first time I saw it I didn’t have the paper that explains the story. Last night I did, and I dutifully read it before the dance started. I still didn’t understand it. There were two maidens out in the woods, some sort of devil guy who disguised himself as a deer and lured one of the maidens away, but then someone else came, called a garuda and I think in the end all was well, but it was kind of hard to tell actually. I got very confused with the whole thing. It was like tuning into a soap opera one day and not knowing who everyone was or how they were related to each other. I think that was crucial to understanding the story.

Anyway, the performance was very sparsely attended. There was a small group of Australians, about 8 of them, who for the most part were well-behaved. There was a very overdressed couple of unknown origin, but I am guessing they were Americans, since I heard them speaking unaccented English, one single woman, and a couple – an American guy with a woman who looked Indonesian, but not local – she was dressed like she had either grown up in the west or had spent a lot of time there.

First I noticed the Australian guy's camera. He was fidgeting around the empty performance hall taking pictures of this or that. I could see that his camera was big, but even more so, I felt he was using it in inappropriate ways. Pointing it at people who were just standing around minding their own business. Dancers waiting outside in the little alley next to the hall, a woman working in a little shack selling drinks and snacks, who was obviously very shy about having her photo taken (she ran behind a display of snacks to try to hide from him, but like a National Geographic photographer waiting to get photos of big game, he patiently waited until she emerged, snapped a photo, with flash, and caught her off guard). I thought he was being a little obnoxious about his photo taking.

And that is when the American and Indonesian couple entered. They sat down in an empty corner and within a few minutes the guy was up. He went over to the little shack and bought a very large bottle of beer, and then went over to the dancers and I guess tried speaking to them (they of course, were probably nervous about doing this performance they’ve probably done thousands of times). He came back with the beer and began chugging. I wished he had been Australian.

The lights went out and the hall was illuminated only by the fire in the center of the dance floor. The dancers came out all wild-eyed and scary looking with their hands raised above their heads, fingers splayed and they began chanting and grunting. And the flashes began to go off.

Even though there were only a handful of people at the performances, the flashes made it seem like the hall was filled with a hundred paparazzi catching a glimpse of Britney Spears falling out of a car drunk with no underwear on. It was ridiculous. My new digital camera has a setting called “ISO” which is for shooting in low light situations. It’s amazing how well it does that. Even in a situation like this with only one big candelabra type thing lighting the scene, I was able to shoot without any flash.

After the initial bursts of flashes, things calmed down and most people put their cameras away, or put them down, except for the two men, well, actually the overdressed man also had a camera, but his was small – which was odd, because in every other way he and his date screamed “WE HAVE MONEY!” so you’d think his camera would have been the biggest of all. But maybe camera size is not saying anything about wealth.

The Australian and the American drinking from a large bottle of beer were acting like fashion photographers at the latest Paris fashion show. First they shot from their seats. The dark hall punctuated by obnoxious bursts of flash which blinded me, and I am sure did a number on the dancers who were staring out into the darkness. It seemed that when one took a shot, the other did so in response. It was like a competition.

With the old 35mm cameras where you had to buy film and pay for it to get developed, the only people who shot endlessly were professional photographers who were on some sort of subsidized budget. They were the only ones who could afford to get all of that film developed (no less buy it in the first place), but digital photography has revolutionized photography, brought it to the masses, made it so much more democratic. Any schmoe can take endless photos, weed through those thousands to find that one perfect shot and print it at home with a basic photo printer. Unfortunately, the rest of the world has to suffer as they work to get that perfect shot.

I didn't get the impression that either of these guys was in any way professional, or even an amateur photographer, just that they had bought these huge cameras that probably were not that expensive (as things go) and they didn’t really care about their impact on the rest of the world. I suppose they could not see that the flash completely destroyed the mood of the dance, which was done in total darkness with only the flames coming from the fire in the center, or that their flashes were so constant that it became the darkness that was the exception rather than the rule.
Eventually, they both got up and started moving around, now really acting like they were on some special assignment. The plastic chairs farted against the tile floor as they bumped them and moved around the mostly empty hall.

At one point, I was ready to get up and leave because they were so ruining the experience for me. I felt so sorry especially for the little girls who came out towards the end of the dance. They were bombarded by flashes, I guess because they were so cute, and also they were right up in front very close to the audience. The flash must have blinded them and I bet even in their sleep they were seeing those flashes of light.

So here I was, with my dinky little digital camera which is thinner than a deck of playing cards, able to take decent photos with my low light setting, and these guys with these big fancy cameras, acting like they were professionals, were unable to figure out how to shoot without flash? There was something obscenely wrong with this picture (no pun intended).

I think cameras should be sold with some sort of mandatory training which includes a course in ethics and proper camera behavior. Things like taking photos of locals when traveling, taking photos of food while others are waiting to eat, and using flash in very dark settings need to be covered. Maybe to drive the point home, those buying the camera need to be forced to stand in a very dark room with their eyes wide open and not blinking (the dancers don’t ever seem to blink) while someone fires hundreds of shots with flash at them. Maybe they will be able to understand that sometimes getting that “perfect” shot comes at a cost, mostly to those on the other side of their lens, and that when it all comes down to it (whatever "it" is), it is not really worth it.

Curried Rick

2009-12-03T02:39:00.000-08:00

Today I was the main ingredient in a curry.

The day started off on kind of a bum note. Yesterday I called my parents. My father has been not doing well. The phone call made me believe he is not going to get better and is only going to get worse. His doctors said they "got him through one holiday" - Thanksgiving and their goal is to get him through the next - Christmas. That doesn't sound very hopeful to me.

So, thinking this might be his last Christmas and for our family, the last time we will all be together (we have been blessed to have very long-living parents, and I've sort of taken that for granted until now), I decided I wanted to try to get to NJ for Christmas.

It was not as easy as I had hoped.

I brought my laptop to a restaurant called Pundi Pundi or something like that. It is across the pond from The Pond and looks out on the same rice field. It's a lovely place to eat and also to use a computer. They have free wifi.

I hooked up my computer and my headset and microphone and called United Airlines, Yahoo Travel and Thai Airways. I had several reservations that I had to either change or cancel.

United was going to charge me over $1300 to fly back to SF on the 15th when I wanted to. The earliest they could get me out on the same fare (with a penalty) was December 21. Then I had to cancel some hotel reservations through Yahoo Travel and change my departure from Denpasar and cancel my ticket to Chiang Mai (turned out it was non-refundable, so I lost the $$ on that one).

All told, I lost quite a bit of money, but I figure I am also saving on the money I won't be spending on hotels, food, massages, and everything else by leaving early. In the end it will all balance out (I hope), and of course, spending time with my family right now is not something to put a price on.

Then I made a reservation to fly into Philly on Christmas Eve and out again on January 6.

By the time I finished with all of this, I was starving and had a nice nasi campur for lunch.

I like Pundi Pundi because of their food, view and free wifi, but they have one tape or CD they play over and over again. It sounds like Diana Ross singing Indonesian and some American standards (like Besame Mucho). Not the fun Diana Ross of the Supremes, but Diana when she got old and it was clear that she really never could sing...kind of squeaky high voice. The Indonesian songs were the worst, but Besame Mucho for the 5th time was what finally made me decide to pack up and leave - maybe the point of playing the same annoying CD over and over again.

I went to Ubud Sari Spa which my friend Yaari recommended. I was glad I had my motorbike, which I am going to call moto from now on because motorbike is too long to type. The spa is at the end of a little street off of Ubud Main Road. It was kind of fun going there on moto, and I am really glad I didn't have to walk there.

It seems like a nice place. It was one of my choices as a possible alternative to Matahari when I realized I couldn't stay there for a whole month (due to the heat and so much more), but I was on the wrong street and instead found Artini 2, which I am glad for.

I looked at the choice of spa options and the one that appealed to me was a session with a Balinese Traditional Psychic Healer. I had to make an appointment and am scheduled to go back tomorrow at 10. Again, glad I have moto.

I returned to my hotel and was considering lounging around the pool, but it was too crowded with new people at the hotel, so instead I decided I needed a spa treatment.

I went to Zen Spa, which is conveniently located across from Pundi Pundi and The Pond.

They had several options to choose from, but I was in the mood for a spice bath. Yaari told me you take a bath with big hunks of cinnamon. This seemed like a nice change from the flowers.

I was led to my room which was down a pathway with big round stones decorated with small pebbles in floral designs with water running underneath. It was a little old, but very nice.

My room had a big open window that looked out onto a very lush garden that had a waterfall. The room had a massage table, a bathtub right under the window, a shower and a locker type thing.

My masseuse instructed me to undress and shower. He gave me a towel and there was a sarong on the table. At last, I thought, I found a place that would allow me a little bit of modesty.

When he came back I was just wrapping the sarong around me. "Is this for me?" I asked.

"Yes", he told me.

I lay face down and tried to position my head in the little hole in the table so that it wouldn't hurt too much. I really don't like putting my face in those holes. Eventually my head begins to feel like it weighs a ton and is pressing down on my forehead. If I don't get my head positioned just right, it really begins to hurt.

After I laid down, the masseuse removed my sarong. So much for modesty. He placed it along my back, covering my butt and upper legs and then lifted it up so that my butt was exposed.

Yep, there is no modesty in Bali!

First I got a nice acupressure massage, which was followed by an oil massage and finally a spice scrub. After the spice scrub was applied I began to get chilly, so the masseuse turned off the fan and then covered me with two towels and left me to bake.

And bake I did. The scrub heated up and so did I. It got really hot. Not uncomfortable, and I was not sweating, but I felt a very warm feeling spreading over and through me. It was unlike anything I've ever felt before - it was a deep heating.

As I was getting to the point where I'd just about had enough, my masseuse (I really need names here because my masseuse is also too much to type) returned and told me to get in the bath. I was going to shower, but he told me just to get in the bath.

There was a big bag of spices, cinnamon and barks floating in the bath. I was still cooking when I eased myself into the warm water.

I was then served some melon and papaya on sticks that had some sweet white substance poured on it (maybe condensed milk?) and a cup of tea that tasted like ginger and lemongrass.

I was really liking Zen Spa.

The bath was lovely sitting looking out the window onto this lush garden, listening to the sound of the waterfall. Even though Zen Spa looked a little old and slightly tattered, they really had it done right. I will surely return.

After that, I crossed the street to the Pond for dinner.

From the first night I went there, there is a woman there who remembers my name, just from me using my credit card. She always says, "Hello Mr. Richard". The security guard taught me a little Indonesian when I parked my moto "Apu kapara?" (how are you?) "Bagus" (good), which I used with the various servers who came to wait on me. The food is not great, but the presentation and service are outstanding, and they don't play a squeaky voiced Indonesian singer who sounds like old Diana Ross without the help of the Supremes to disguise her horrible voice.

There is a lovely woman who sits outside of my hotel each night selling tickets to dance performances. She reminds me of one of my students. Not any student in particular, but one of the older Thai or Vietnamese ladies who is always so friendly and happy to see me. I promised her last night I would buy a ticket for the Kecak (fire dance) tonight. I enjoyed it so much I decided to go back and see it again, only this time in a different place and with different dancers.

And that it turns out will be the end of a complicated, but very good day in Ubud.

Can a body be massaged too much?

2009-12-02T17:53:00.000-08:00

This is the question I have found myself pondering in Bali.

I thought it would be something bigger, something more existential, something about the meaning of life, or the roots of happiness, but instead, I am wondering if I can overdose on massage.

I didn't worry about it in Thailand. Thai massage, though it can be deep and sometimes painful, feels good for my stiff body, especially the stretching. I feel that if I were able to get a Thai massage every day, eventually, I might be able to sit cross-legged on the floor without my knees hitting my chin.

But in Bali, it's a different story. The massages here use oil, creams, lotions, baths, herbs, fruits and vegetables. Sometimes I feel like I am being prepared to be put on a spit and slow roasted for a feast. Maybe that is the origin of Balinese massage traditions? Were the Balinese cannibals at one time?

One very notable difference between Thai and Balinese massage is the Thais are more modest in their approach. By modest, I mean, you are clothed, or at least have a towel or sarong around your waist.

My first massage in Bali was at Nur Salon. I was led by a young man to a little open air room. There was a massage bed under a roof and a stone tub. He told me to take off my clothes and hang them on a metal rack by the door.

"Everything?", I asked.

"Yes, everything." And he stood there watching me, I guess to be sure I removed everything.

In the past when I've had to strip down for a massage, the masseuse usually leaves the room and tells you to lie face down, providing a towel or something to cover the private area.

There was no privacy option here. He just stood there and looked at me. I don't know where he was looking because I didn't look at him. I figured if I didn't see him, maybe he wouldn't see me.

The massage was deep and used oil. It was the kind of massage I liked actually. Really deep, bordering on torture, but not quite there. I hate when someone gives me a massage and only touches the surface of my skin. There is nothing more annoying than that. I could easily get someone to rub oil on me, but this massage was getting down deep into the muscle and tissue and almost massaging my bones.

After that, I was rubbed with salt - front and back. I was now ready for roasting.

Instead, he had me stand up next to the tub, above a drain and he splashed me with water to wash off the salt. Front and back.

Then he threw this creamy white liquid on me.

"Cocounut milk?", I asked.

"No, yogurt".

Balinese yogurt has a very strong smell. I had eaten the same for breakfast.

Again, I was rinsed off and then the tub was prepared. Very warm water filled with flowers and petals.

I got in the tub, felt all of the stress and tension of my trip melt away and began to doze off, when my masseuse returned, woke me up, had me stand again over the drain, and then rinsed the flowers off of me.

My multi-dimensional healing was a bit more modest. I was told to strip to my undies and then the healer put a sarong over me. It was hot, since there was no air-con and it was noon. I really didn't want the sarong, but every time I stuck a foot out or lifted an arm over the sarong, he placed it back underneath. I wondered if his healing abilities only worked if he couldn't see my earthly body.

Yesterday I went to a place called Bodyworks. It is across from Nur Salon. I liked the look of the place and thought that perhaps there I could find some kind of traditional healing that might help with my ear. Instead, when I went in, they had pretty much standard massage services. I noticed they had a sunburn treatment. I was thinking for several days that I would do that, since I got a little too much sun too fast on my first day at the pool.

So yesterday I went there and asked for the sunburn treatment. My skin on my face had begun to peel and I hadn't been out in the sun for a few days, so my sunburn was not that bad anymore, but still, I thought it might be good for the peeling and dryness that were still to come.

I was led by a young man upstairs to a room that looked out onto a family compound. There were banana trees outside the window and I could hear chickens clucking. I didn't see anyone, but if they were looking, they surely would have seen me as I was told to strip.

"Everything?", I asked.

"Yes, everything", he said, as he stood there with a silly grin on his face and watched me.

I though the sunburn treatment started with a cold cucumber treatment and then was followed by a massage, but instead it started with a massage that was once again, deep. Really deep.

It's a good thing my sunburn had healed or it would have been quite painful.

About halfway through my massage, someone knocked on the door. My masseuse went and spoke for a few minutes to the person outside of the door. When he returned I felt an extremely cold liquid being applied to my legs. Cucumber. I guess he forgot to bring it up with him or they had to prepare it. I was not looking forward to it being applied to my back.

Instead, he went back to finishing the massage on my back, and then applied the cucumber, which fortunately had warmed up a bit and wasn't as much of a shock as I thought it would be. It felt good.

The same process was repeated to my front. Nothing was covered up. I felt very exposed. Even though the masseuse didn't touch me "down there" I still found it interesting that I wasn't even given a washcloth - or maybe a banana leaf?

When we were done with the massage and the cucumber mash, I was told to stand up and rinse off. The shower that was provided was only cold water, so Ketut (that was his name) scooped warm water from the bathtub and poured it on me. Once I was clean of the oil and cucumber, I was told to sit in the bath.

This tub was not as nice as the one at Nur Salon. I liked Nur's tub because it was long enough for me to submerge my entire body and stretch out. This one was a little short.

I laid back in the tub looking at the flowers and petals floating around me and wondered what their real purpose was. They didn't seem to smell. Was it just an aesthetic touch? Did they have some medicinal value? The just seemed to cling to me and reminded me of the feel of seaweed in the Atlantic Ocean when I was a kid. I never liked that feeling of seaweed clinging to my legs and wasn't really enjoying the feeling of these flowers attaching themselves to my wet belly.

Tomorrow will be a week that I've been in Bali and I have had three massages and one ear candling treatment. I would have had more massages, but I counted things like moving to a better hotel and going to the doctor as "treatments" as well. I am trying to limit myself to one treatment per day.

But really, there is not a whole lot else for me to do here other than get massages and eat. I can't swim for one week because of my ear infection, and even after that, I don't want to take a chance, unless I can find ear plugs. I don't want to mess with my ears.

And so, I return to my question of whether or not a body can be massaged too much. I guess I will have to just find out the answer myself.

Just try it for three days....

2009-12-02T01:11:00.000-08:00

Epi is not working in the internet cafe now. I miss her. There is a strange little girl who has been here the past few times I've been here. I think Epi might be visiting her family. I do hope she comes back. This girl kind of gets on my nerves. She seems very skittish and even though I've been here three times when she has been working, she still looks at me kind of confused. "Oh, you want internet?" - yeah, why else would I be in an internet cafe!

I rented a motorbike today. Big Made rented it to me. He said it is new. We went to his house to get it. He showed me his studio and his paintings and I bought a small painting for 200,000 rupiah (abt. $20.00) - framed with a really nice frame. It seems like quite a deal as the painting is full of minute details and the frame is quite nice.

He told me he is not supposed to bring guests from the hotel there. His boss gets mad. I asked him again who his boss is, and he told me his cousin. Then he told me some story about losing money last night. His son has a masters in economics or something and is in Denpassar. It involved something about him selling his rice field to an American but for some reason he did not get the money last night. I couldn't follow it. He said his son was very sad. Then he said he got a loan from someone and got the money.

I think it was supposed to be some sort of sob story that would inspire me to help him. I'm pretty dull when it comes to hints. In this case, I am glad. If he had asked me directly for money, I would have felt bad saying no.

After I bought the painting his other son (? maybe) wheeled the motorbike (it's actually a scooter) out into the alley and together he and Big Made showed me how to use it. Turn this, hold this, do this, and there. I didn't get it. Show me again? Turn this, hold this, do this. How to I make it go forward?

They didn't understand my question.

Turns out you turn the handle thing. I got on and shakily made my way down the alley to Hanoman Street knowing they were watching me chuckling as I kind of wobbled back and forth.

I didn't go very far, just to the hotel, where I parked the thing and went into my room to recover a bit. As I was getting my key, Ketut, saw the helmut.

"Oh, you rented a motorbike?"

I swear, nothing escapes anyone here.

Yes, I told him.

Where will you go?

I want to go to the countryside.

He pulled out a big map of the area and showed me a road I could go. Saying names like Pulupaga, Penestago, Perepere, I don't really know what names he was saying, but they were going right over my head. I was still shaken from the 2 minute ride from Big Made's to the hotel.

I could see that the road he was pointing out was a pretty direct route from Ubud Main Road. I thought I could handle it. He told me I could see rice fields from there.

And so I set off.

As I was leaving, Big Made was returning. "Take the back roads", he said.

Huh?

"Take the back roads."

I was not sure what this was about.

When I told him I didn't have a motorcycle license, he kind of smiled and said "no problem". When I told him my driver's license was expired, he gave me the same smile, and said, "no problem".

Now, I was thinking perhaps it was a problem. Why was he telling me to take the back roads? What back roads?

I ignored him, as I am deciding is the best thing to do with him, because I am beginning to believe he is full of shit.

I successfully made it to Ubud Main Road, negotiated a turn across traffic, came to the big statue, and turned left. From there, I passed through endless row after row of shops selling all kinds of stuff that you see in central Ubud. Statues, mosaics, pottery, wind chimes, mosquito nets, hammocks, etc. It went on and on forever. I could not believe how many people were employed in making and selling this stuff. I didn't see a lot of people buying it, but I guess they do or it would not be there for sale, right?

Finally, I saw the rice fields. They were magnificent. I am hoping to upload a picture to this blog entry when I go for dinner (in a place with WiFi) so I won't describe them much. By then the traffic had thinned out and I was able to cross the road, park my motorbike and pull out my camera to take a picture. In those few instants, I don't know where they came from, but I was surrounded by a throng.

First a woman came with the "best bananas in Bali". She unwrapped the peel on one and stuck it in my mouth. "Here, try it", she said.

It was okay. I don't know why I gave in, but I bought a small bunch for 10,000 rp. ($1.00) probably way more than they were worth.

This only encouraged the throng like throwing bread to a flock of seagulls.

Next, this woman tried to sell me another bunch, while another woman tried putting a sarong around me and a third was trying to get me to look at her, but I was too busy fighting the effort to put this sarong on me and waving away the banana lady.

I was able to figure out how to unlock the compartment under my seat and I stuck the bananas in there, while the throng insisted. Buy this, buy this, buy this, buy this, buy this. Really, they were like seagulls, insitent and no amount of shooing would discourage them.

I walked down some steps and only the banana lady followed (luckily).

As I tried to take a photo of the rice fields, she went on.

"Very old rice field, papa. New rice. Old rice, papa." I had no idea what she was talking about. Then she pulled out a collection of postcards. She showed me a picture of what I was looking at. "Buy postcard papa". "No," I said, "I want my own pictures." I think she was determined to make sure I didn't get my own pictures though. I was waiting for her to step in front of the camera. She continued. "Only twenty thousand rupiah, papa....only ten thousand rupiah papa...one dollar." Why was she calling me papa? She was older than me. Her face was smeared with this white powder that made her look ghostly and made her yellow teeth look even yellower. I imagined she must have been pretty in her youth. She wasn't looking too hot now though. The yellow was probably from chewing betel nut or something.

I only took a few photos and climbed the stairs with her following me. The woman with the sarong was waiting. She held it out. "One dollar". The banana lady continued. I hopped on my motorbike and was thankful I had started to master the art of getting it started. I whizzed off, leaving them to jump on the next person to stop.

There was a sign that the road was closed and even though people were still going along it, I was afraid of being pulled over by the police, so I took a side road. I noticed a small parking area with a view of more rice fields. As soon as I pulled in, they appeared, like zombies, or flies on shit. Where did they come from and how did they find me so quickly?

A woman came with the same set of postcards. "No", I said, repeatedly. "No, thank you." I smiled, but she was not smiling. She just kept saying, "Ten thousand rupiah" (after starting at 20,000 and working her way down).

Down below an old man appeared with a pole with two wicker buckets. In them were green grasses, maybe from the rice field. It was very photogenic. He knew it.

"Take a picture?", he asked, in his toothless grin.

I was sure the photo came with a price, and I preferred my photos unposed and free. "No, thank you," I said.

He eventually returned to the shack he came out of where he was working on a large wood carving of some god or other.

The woman with the post cards did not give up. I guess many people give in. It's only a dollar. I could use post cards, I guess they think, but I was not giving in on principle. They were annoying and I didn't want to encourage them, for the same reason I don't feed sea gulls or pigeons.

I finally left, going further up the road until it began to narrow and I did not have any idea where I was going. When a big truck came along behind me, taking up most of the road and forcing me off to the thin shoulder, I decided it was time to turn around.

Back I went, past the woman with the post cards and the man carving wood, past the banana lady and the sarong lady and several others who had crowded around a blond woman on a motorcycle, past the many shops, that went on forever.

I was thinking of going to Wayan's for lunch. The woman from Eat, Pray, Love, has a little shop on the same road as Matahari. I turned down that street, but I could not go slow enough to see her shop. I passed it and didn't want to turn around. Another day, I thought, when I am walking.

I pulled up to my hotel and Big Made was outside.

"Dangerous", I said.

He just smiled.

"I don't like it," I told him, "I want to rent a bicycle."

This I had decided on my way back from the rice field.

A bike was all I needed. I wanted some form of transport to get around Ubud and maybe go for an early morning ride. I needed exercise, and I wanted to avoid all of the offers for "taxi? transport? maybe tomorrow??" If I had a bike, I could go further than I can on foot.

"Do you have a bicycle?", I asked him.

"No", he said.

"No?"

"No."

He had told me before he could get me a bike. When I asked how much, he said, 30,000 rp per day. A motorbike was 40,000 rp.

I got the scooter because it was only 10,000 more and it seemed like it would be fun.

When I was in Sumatra, me and my friend Nancy rented scooters. We had a blast, and went all over the island in the middle of Lake Toba. It was incredible. People ran to the road to say, "hello!!!" and we were the only ones on the road for most of our riding.

Here, it is different. If people yell, "hello", they are trying to sell something and there is a lot of traffic. It wasn't as much fun as I thought, nor was the countryside as beaufitul as I thought. If I see the countryside, it will be on the back of my personal assistant, Made's motorbike, or in a tour bus. I don't feel comfortable doing it on my own.

I told Big Made I didn't want the motorbike.

I want to change to a bicycle, I told him.

"Just try it for three days," he answered.

Three days?

This guy was beginning to get on my nerves. I really didn't want it for three days. I wanted to return it and get a bike. But I am guessing he doesn't have a bike for rent and can't make money, but he will be happy if I pay him 120,000 rp. for three days rental, so I will do that. I don't think the bike will grow on me in three days, but I do think I will be a bit wiser in my dealings with Big Made who looks like a walrus dressed up in a sarong.

The Dead Gecko

2009-11-30T20:53:00.000-08:00

I might have killed it myself, though I surely didn't mean to.

Last night when I entered my room I left my flip flops directly in front of the door, where I removed them (outside) lined up next to each other, side by side. This morning when I went out, they were sort of thrown on my porch, one off to the side, and lying there face up was a little dead gecko.

I felt terrible. Could it be that I crushed the little fellow without realizing it when I stepped in front of my door and took off my flip flops? Or maybe he had crawled underneath one of them and a bird came and swooped down and threw the flip flop aside and killed the gecko and left him there. I don't know why he would have left him there, but I prefer that version to what I think really happened. I think I crushed him to death.

Either way, it is a bad omen. I think I need to do some sort of ritual to appease the spirits now.

And, maybe that is why my meniere's is acting up.

I woke up this morning and felt off. It seemed like I had had enough sleep but I couldn't get out of bed. I knew it was early and my attempt yesterday to take an early morning walk was not that satisfying (too much traffic on the roads) so I saw no reason to get up before 8 a.m., when they started serving breakfast. When I did get up I felt my balance was off and I immediately took a meclizine and got back in bed, waiting for it to take effect before the vertigo got so intense that I started vomiting.

When I finally felt stable, I went to breakfast.

I was not feeling very good.

First of all, I was very disappointed that the meniere's was back. I thought that since I started taking this new drug, betahistine, it would be okay. I also thought that after my multidimensional healing yesterday, any problems I had would be gone (I was hoping for a psychic surgery on my ear). I hated the thought of spending another three weeks here and two weeks in Thailand having to deal with dizzy spells and being zombied out on meclizine. And I was flashing forward to what my life would be like if I were not able to keep this dis-ease under control.

But beyond all of that, I just felt bad. Not only was my bad ear feeling full, ringing and doing all of the things it normally does, but my good ear, felt full and kind of hurt. When I was cleaning my ear, I found a lot of wax. I have been finding a lot lately, especially in the good ear. The past few days it was yellow, but today it was a dark reddish brown.

I thought if nothing else, I needed to see a doctor and get my ears cleaned.

As is normal, at breakfast a whole assortment of Balinese came up to greet me. First was Ketut. The young guy who originally showed me my room and gave me the deal and checked me in. He is very nice and usually works in the afternoon. He asked how I was feeling, and I told him honestly.

Then came Made, my "personal assistant". He has been suffering from a cold the past few days, so we exchanged information about our ailments. He got to see a doctor last night. He offered to take me to the Ubud clinic today after he finished cleaning rooms, around 11. I thanked him and said I would let him know (I was thinking of just going on my own, since he seems to be so busy).

And then the big boss, who I learned is also named Made (I will call him big Made) stopped by. He kind of reminds me of a walrus. He has a lot of teeth that stick out of his mouth, even when it is closed, has a big belly and is very brown, and he has a lot of whiskers sticking out from his chin. I imagine if you took a walrus and dressed him up in a sarong and put a scarf on his head, he'd look like big Made.

Anyway, big Made came by and asked what I was going to do today. I told him I was planning on going to Ubud Clinic. He asked what was wrong and I told him. He didn't seem to understand really. We chatted for a bit, he continually touched me on the shoulder as we spoke, as he has done in the past. Finally he left and went over to speak to other guests.

As I was finishing my breakfast, he came back and told me Toya Clinic was better than Ubud Clinic. I asked where it was and he said right down the road. He offered to take me there. I didn't think it would matter to little Made that I went with big Made. I got up and we walked out to the street. Big Made put his arm around my shoulder. I wasn't sure if he was just helping me (I was not walking very well) or if it was just one of those male bonding gestures. Either way, it was making it harder for me to walk on the narrow path to the street.

I hopped on his motorbike and off we went.

It was nice riding on a motorbike. The traffic didn't seem that bad and there was a nice breeze as we went along. I was thinking that if I got this ear thing under control, I would rent a motorbike since it seemed like THE way to get around.

The clinic was empty and the doctor was young and spoke fairly good English. He didn't know what meniere's was, but that was okay, because if the vestibular specialist in Buenos Aires didn't have a cure, neither would this guy. He examined my ears and said there was blockage, especially on the right and my ear canals were swollen. He flushed my right ear and gave me an antibiotic. He told me no swimming for a week.

Big Made returned me to the hotel. I asked him what I owed him, thinking that the transport must come with some strings (though I was really hoping he did it just out of the kindness of his heart). To my delight, he said, "no, nothing". Was I supposed to insist? Without giving me much time to think about it, he said, "How about you pay for 3 more nights?"

I was slightly shocked, but more amused. Here I had just returned from the doctor and was not at my best, but he wanted me to pay for three more nights (I am already paid up through tonight). It wasn't a problem. I made my way to the front desk, walking like I was walking on one of those sidewalks at the fun house that move from side to side and told the clerk I was going to pay for three more nights. I kept repeating that I was already paid for tonight though. I thought it was a bit strange that big Made didn't just let me pay tomorrow for three more nights. I am hoping the accounting will all work out, but I was not in a state to really be able to check receipts (or even remember where I put the last one I got), so if nothing else, I'll end up paying for an extra night down the road.

As I went back to my room I ran into Made, and got my key from him. He saw the bag from the clinic with my medication (it was a little brown shopping bag with rope strings, kind of like what you would get if you bought handmade soaps) and said, "you went already?"

I told him big Made offered to take me.

He said, I said I would take you, after breakfast. I tried reassuring him, it was okay, I said. But I could tell he was upset. Were his feelings hurt? Did he lose out on a tip? Somehow I had committed another cultural faux pas.

To be honest though I am not that concerned about it. If little Made and big Made want to compete over who takes me to the clinic and whether I am going to a cremation or a dance performance, that is really up to them. In this particular instance, I needed to see a doctor, and I would think they could put aside any personal benefit they might achieve by helping me to see one and think instead of my health. I think, or at least I hope, that is what I would do if I were in sandals.

Bali Belly

2009-11-29T18:21:00.000-08:00

I think I have a case of Bali belly coming on. I don't need to explain, I guess everyone can guess what it involves. Maybe my healing session today will help. I have an appointment at noon for an esoteric healing. Here is what the brochure says (no corrections made)

Shamballa Multi Dimensional
Healing on Massage
(1 hour) Rp. 150.000

Our Esoteric Treatment Healing your body, mind and spirit.
The process of healing:
1. Beaming and Scanning
Beaming creates a unique healing proces by opening and treating the whole energy field at once. Beaming energy the whole aura field, opens the field and increas the amont of energy received by the person.
2. Intuitif massage with Balinese style helping from negatif energy bloked.
3. Transfer the energy of Shamballa and psychic surgery (if need it)
4. Closing.

I'm excited, especially at the prospect of psychic surgery. I remember seeing pictures of it from the Phillipines with healers taking their hands out of a patients body all covered in blood while there were no signs of any cuts on the patient's body (maybe it was all fake and what I will get today will be nothing like that, but still... the thought it exciting).

Last night after leaving Epi and the internet cafe, I walked down the road a bit to look for a restaurant I found recommended on some website (maybe trip advisor). I get these mysterious e-mails recommending things about Ubud. Somehow, people know I am here. It was in a village called Pengosekan, which is just past the internet cafe and the Dirty Duck Diner. I guess villages here are not that big. It seems that a 15 minute walk and I am out of Ubud into another village.

Anyway, I never found it, but on the way I passed two fairly new looking places that were very grand, open and airy. They both looked out onto a rice field which was brilliant green and made even brighter by the sun which was making its way down to the horizon. As I walked past, a guy standing outside in sarong and head scarf told me to join them for happy hour - 10% off drinks. I thanked him and went on, but when it was clear I was not going to find the place I was looking for, I walked back, starting to get hungry. This place, called, the Pond, looked really inviting.

I like that I can eat at any time here. It doesn't seem to matter. In Spain if I went into a restaurant at 5 p.m., they would tell me the kitchen was closed, or the restaurant might not even be open. Even though it seems some people (tourists) eat late, there seems to be a lot of flexibility among the Balinese regarding eating times.

I was given a royal welcome at the Pond. I chose a seat overlooking the rice field with a little shade. It was a beautiful view and the restaurant was fairly empty.

I asked the waiter for his recommendation from the Balinese dishes and he recommended Bebek Betutu - duck that is rubbed with spices and cooked slowly in a banana leaf. It came with a pyramid of rice that had vegetables chopped up in it, and a side of green beans mixed with herbs and spices. It was really yummy. I started eating with a fork and knife, but I wanted to get every bit, so eventually I went cannibal and started just gnawing at it while licking my fingers. No one seemed to mind.

It was such a beautiful and relaxing place and the service was so attentive, non-obtrusive, and friendly.

Then they came in.

I called them Thelma and Louise (in my mind). First Louise came and sat down. She was dressed appropriately, I thought. She had a stylish little straw hat, a pink blouse and I didn't notice what she was wearing down below, but judging from her upper body, I guess it was respectful and proper. She seemed very nice, low-key and fit in with the overall vibe of the place.

And then she was joined by Louise. When I first saw her I almost choked on a duck bone. She was an older woman, late 50's, wearing cut off shorts and a halter top. I thought outfits like that went out in the 80's. Not only was she dressed like the owner of a bordello, she didn't have the body to pull it off.

I don't get it. Women have so many more choices than men do when it comes to cool, comfortable clothing. She could have worn a nice, light, flowing skirt and a blouse without sleeves, but here she was, in this beautiful restaurant, with these gentle, very modest Balinese, dressed like she was going to an aging hookers convention! To top it off, she had a big head of curly blond hair with sunglasses perched on top of her head and of course, was smoking a cigarette and spoke loudly. The Balinese seemed unfazed by her, but I couldn't stop staring. I wondered if she was here because of Eat, Pray, Love and was searching for her own Felipe.

They were Australians. But it doesn't really matter, because I saw a gaggle of older French women dressed similarly earlier in the day. Their old skin hanging and sagging and way too much exposed. It was not a pretty sight and the make-up and hair-dos they had only accentuated their odd costumes.

I mean, I am not going native or anything, but I do try to dress respectfully while still being comfortable. I guess Louise thought she looked hot. She had obviously taken some time to get dressed because she was also wearing several gold necklaces and bracelets, had her nails done and was wearing make-up. She thought this was an appropriate outfit to wear to a nice restaurant. Maybe it's just me, but I was embarrassed for her.

After dinner I got my check and it was 104.759 rp. Seems like a lot. It is just over $10.00! There was a 5% service included but there was a line on the credit card slip for a tip. I was trying to calculate how much I should leave. I was going to leave 3,000 rupiah, which is what I had in my wallet as small bills, but when I saw that 5% was 4,535 rp., I decided to double that, and I left 5,000 rupiah. Later I realized it was 50 cents! So much for my big tip! I am having a hard time figuring out what is an appropriate amount here.

I rushed back to my hotel to pick up my ticket for the evening dance performance. On the way I passed a couple I met at lunch time. I was sitting in the Warung I have been going to for lunch and they walked up. Well, first the guy walked up. He asked me, "How is it?" and I told him, "delicious", very enthusiastically. He said to his companion (wife?) who was Chinese, "this guy says it's good and it looks like they have a nice nasi campur". So they came up onto the little platform that separates the warung from the street and sat down. I felt proud of myself for drawing in customers to this sweet little place.

So as I was walking home and spotted them in another restaurant, I asked them how lunch was. They said they really enjoyed it, and also enjoyed the massage (I had recommended that after lunch they get a massage at Nur Salon, which was right next to the warung). Turns out they are from Berkeley, but currently living in China! Small world.

I picked up my ticket and headed towards Ubud Palace to the Legong Performance. It was supposed to be not at Ubud Palace, where it normally is, but next to it. I arrived and there was some ceremony going on. A lot of men wearing white shirts and white sashes around their heads and fancy sarongs (all the same) and a buzz of them riding around on motorbikes. I thought maybe once this ceremony was over, the dance performance would begin, but just to be sure, I showed a guy my ticket and asked him if it was there. He directed me next door to Ubud Palace.

I went to Ubud Palace which was dark and nearly deserted. Clearly nothing was happening there. So I crossed the street to where people were selling tickets to the performance and asked where it was. I was told I had to walk 300 meters down the road and it was on the right.

I had no idea how far 300 meters was, so I walked.

I came across another temple with people entering. I stopped and asked, showing my ticket. I was told to go to Ubud Palace. No, I told them, not tonight, and showed them the map on the back and said "Number 2" since I couldn't read in the dark without my glasses. I can now see it is called Dalem Temple, but I referred to it as Number 2, since that is the number it had on the map.

They said, "oh, up the road, 200 meters on the right."

Okay, I was getting closer.

Again, I stopped at a temple where something was going on. "Dance performance?" they asked me. Yes, I said, and showed them my ticket. "Oh, Ubud Palace", they said. "No, not tonight" I said and showed them my map saying, "Number 2".

"Ah, that way, 100 meters on the right".

I was getting closer.

Next I asked a security guard outside a hotel. I showed him the map and said, "where is number 2?"

"That way", he said, pointing in the same direction - "1 kilometer" (!)

Ok, I don't know metric conversions, but I do know that 1 kilometer is more than 100 meters. There was no way the distance suddenly expanded on me. I kept walking and eventually saw red flashing lights signaling for people where to enter.

The temple seemed miles outside of Ubud, but actually it wasn't that far. I was drenched in sweat from all of the running back and forth and also a little stressed that I would arrive and have to sit in the back. I was trying to get there early to get a good seat in the front, since the Legong dance involves those little darts of the eyes back and forth and I wanted to be able to observe it up close.

I was able to get a seat in front left of center.

There was a fair-sized gamelan orchestra that came out first and played one number, then they were followed by different dancers, mostly women, dressed in brightly colored sarongs who did interesting things with their feet, fingers, hands, shoulders, heads and eyes. I wouldn't say it was beautiful, and it was not as moving as the kecak dance the night before, but it was good to see. After a while I did get tired of the gamelan music which was harsh and a little loud due to it being amplified on a bad quality speaker. I was glad when it was over.

Early on in the performance there was a large commotion which was actually hard to hear with the loudness of the gamelan, but it seemed there was some chattering going on behind me. I guessed people were lost and arriving late, but couldn't they do it quietly? The guys in the orchestra who seemed to be playing music that they had played for centuries looked to see what was going on, though it didn't affect their playing. They did not look happy.

Several times during the performance, a ruckus would rise from behind me, mostly male voices chattering. I couldn't make out what language they were speaking. I thought maybe they were Indonesians and maybe it was acceptable behavior, but from the faces of the guys in the orchestra, I guessed it was not cool. Finally, I made out some Japanese.

Wow, my image of Japanese as good travelers had been shattered. Compared to the Germans, and Russians, and French, and all of the other Westerners (and even Chinese) I saw in Europe, the Japanese all seemed so well prepared, so well behaved and so respectful. How could they be making so much noise at an obviously inappropriate time and not notice the stares they were getting.

When the performance was over, I could not wait to get up and turn around and see who these rude Japanese were. There was a large group of old Japanese men, some with bad comb-overs, looking a bit lost as they tried to negotiate their way to the exit (all they had to do was turn around).

I walked back, down Ubud Main Road to the junction of Monkey Forest Road and then down a little east/west road that I like. Ubud Main Road and Monkey Forest Road seem to be the center of Ubud. There were lots of fancy restuarants, spas, and of course lots of men saying "taxi? transpor?" and making funny steering wheel gestures as well as women and young girls begging.

When I got to Jalan Hanoman I was only asked "Taxi?" once and then had a nice walk down a quiet and nearly deserted street. My room welcomed me with its coolness and I had a good night sleep.

It was only after breakfast today that I realized I might have Bali belly. I think I am going to see if I can find some ginger tea if I don't end up getting psychic surgery.

Monkey Forest and Missing Julia

2009-11-29T00:39:00.000-08:00

I think my invitation to go to a cremation was one of those "fake invitations" - I saw the old guy who invited me this morning when I went down for breakfast and he only said "Salamat Pagi" (good morning) and then something else that was beyond my mastery of Bahasa. He never mentioned the cremation.

Later, when I ran into Made, my maid and personal assistant, he asked me if I went to Kecak last night. How did he know that? I kind of get the feeling that people here are psychic. This girl in the internet cafe asked me yesterday where I was from. I told her America, which is my standard answer as the politically correct "United States" confuses most people (except the Germans who were at my other guest house who said, "oh United States" when I said "America"), anyway after that she said, where are you from in America, San Francisco, California? I asked her how she knew and she said by the way I speak, which is odd, since I speak New Jersey.

Anyway, Made asked me if I went to Kecak and I told him yes. Then he asked me if I wanted to go to another performance tonight. I told him okay, since I didn't know what was up with the cremation. I kind of guessed that the reason he is offering to get me tickets for performances where I can just buy a ticket at the entrance, is because he wants a tip. The ticket was 80,000 rupiah ($8.00) and I decided I would give him the other 20,000 rupiah as a tip (2 bucks), this because I am not sure what to do about tipping him as a maid. I've never mastered that skill and usually leave nothing, or sometimes I will leave something big when I leave.

I am assuming also that Made spoke to his boss (since everyone seems to talk to everyone about everyone here) and told him I bought a ticket to tonight's dance and the boss knew I would not be available to go to the cremation and I am not sure if I committed my first cultural faux pas or not. The boss didn't seem too friendly to me this afternoon and I kind of avoided him because I felt awkward about the invitation that I am not sure is an invitation.

Whew! Bali is hard to understand!

After breakfast, I went for a walk to see if I could find some more of my friend Yaari's recommendations. The only place I have not been in the area from my guest house to the official end of Ubud (or what Lonely Planet calls the "center") is a part of Monkey Forest Rd. I thought I might find some of the spas and restaurants that Yaari recommended there and also if it wasn't too far, I would visit the Monkey Forest.

I walked down a little east/west road that runs from Jalan Hanoman (my street) to Monkey Forest Road, past the men sitting on the sidewalks making funny steering wheel gestures and saying "taxi?" Some of them are very clever and hold up a sign "Do you need a taxi?" One had a sign that said, "Do you need a taxi?" on one side, and on the other "Maybe tomorrow?" since that usually seems to be the follow-up question to "no thanks". I was saying, "yes, maybe tomorrow" as a Japanese maybe ("maybe" means "no"), but then I decided I would be more blunt and have started saying, "no, I don't think so". I've learned that most people on the street (most as in all) who smile and say hello want something. It's ok though, I talk to a lot of people every day! And it is better than the prostitutes blowing kisses in Seville!

The only people who really make me uncomfortable are the beggars. There are women with infants at strategic points around Ubud who look really down and out and hold out a hand and make a very sad puppy dog face. I try not to look at them. They make me uncomfortable because their looks are so pleading and they don't smile like the men saying "Taxi? Maybe tomorrow?"

Monkey Forest Road seems to be a bit busier and more touristy than Jalan Hanoman. I'm glad I am not staying there. I have found that the existence of a beggar means a site that is frequented by tourists. The street I was staying on before had several of them and I am guessing it is because Wayan Nusuriah or whatever her name is, from Eat, Pray, Love, has her shop there and EPL devotees now flock to her storefront to take classes on traditional Indonesian healing herbs. I am guessing she is ripping them off in the same way she ripped Liz off in the book, but who knows. Maybe she is legit. The few times I walked past, there were groups of young, innocent looking foreigners sitting at big tables looking kind of confused.

The chatty girl in the internet cafe is now making an offering to the gods. She is climbing up on a stool with a plate of watermelon, incense, flowers and other goodies and does this beautiful wave of her hand as she makes the offerings. Geckos who I guess make the shrine their home otherwise are surrying along the walls.

Where was I? Ok, back to Monkey Forest Road. Yep, it was busy, and had shops such as Dolce and Gabana and Versus (Versace), which I am guessing are fakes, just like the many "Armani" tailors I saw in Bangkok.

I saw a sign for a doctor and thought I'd make a visit since I woke up this morning with a full feeling in my right ear (the good one). I assumed I got water in my ear spending so much time with my head submerged in the pool yesterday. It was dumb. I laid on the little wall that separates the baby pool from the big pool and my ears were underwater. Not good for someone with one working ear. I didn't want to take a chance so I thought I'd have a doctor look at it.

The doctor was not in, but the girl in the pharmacy/doctor's office called him and we spoke on the phone. I could hear lots of chickens clucking in the background.

He advised me to take some ear drops and if it is not better to visit him tomorrow and he would flush my ear. It feels better now. I think the water has drained.

I stopped at Wayan Bakery and Cafe (one of Yaari's recommendations) for a little refreshment because it was hot and the pineapple pancake I had for breakfast was not giving me enough energy for the heat. I had a black rice with coconut milk and an iced lemongrass tea. The black rice pudding was better than at Nomad, which has convinced me that the food at Nomad is no good, and it is the reputation that draws people in (either that or they like food that is no good). Still, I think my black rice pudding is the best. My lemongrass tea unfortunately was made with real tea and not lemongrass. In Bangkok they sell little bottles of juice and teas at the train station and I was buying lemongrass tea with pandan leaf every day. We were also served it at the cooking school. None of them were made with tea, but only lemongrass, sugar and sometimes pandan leaf. I have not had caffeine since July 1, so today was an exception. No more chances with "teas". I will stick to juices.

From there I walked to the Monkey Forest. Upon entering, there they were - the monkeys - hundreds of them. Some sitting around waiting for food, others playing, others lazing around picking at each other. They kind of smelled and I thought they were a little disgusting and scary. Signs warned of what to do if they jump on you. I was afraid to venture in further to the forest to see the temples because I thought there would be even more monkeys, and also it was not as cool as Lonely Planet said it would be (as in temperature), so I left.

I found a new route back to my hotel and now know that the Monkey Forest is very near if I want to go back!

I had the same lunch at the same place as yesterday. I noticed that I drew a crowd. I think other people think like me. If a place is empty, I won't go, but if there is at least one person eating there, I will take a chance. I noticed people look at me before looking at the restaurant and two couples came to eat there after they saw me. The food is really good and the nasi campur is quite a deal. I love it.

Back to my hotel to rest by the pool, Made came by to chat. He had now changed from his green sarong and head scarf, which is his maid uniform, to shorts and a t-shirt and was busy knocking almost dead leaves down from the trees and sweeping them up. They really take care of things at Artini and Matahari Cottages could have used a little attention to spruce things up. There are surely enough people working there, they could clip the grass, pull some weeds and clear out some of the overgrowth.

Made has offered twice to take me sightseeing on his motorbike. Today I told him I might rent a bicycle and ride around, visit some rice fields, other villages, etc., but he said he would take me on his motorbike and it would not be as hot. It is a very gracious offer and I am assuming it is not just out of the kindness of his heart. Whether he asks or not, I would pay him. I am going to ask the chatty girl in the internet cafe what a fair price would be. I don't know if I will get an honest answer from her since she might try to sell me one of her own tours, but I will try.

While chatting, Made told me Julia Roberts had been here to film Eat, Pray, Love. I missed her. She was here last month. He also told me that the old palm reader Ketut Leyur (or whatever his name is) was in the film. We talked about Wayan as well.

I think I am going to wait a few days before taking Made up on his offer. He has a cold and I need to continue to adjust to the heat. I am feeling like I am adjusting. I don't feel like my blood is boiling anymore and between air-con and dips in the pool, I have ways of regulating my body temperature so that my head does not explode. I also want to develop a bit of a tan so that I can be out in the sun and not get all burnt and blistery. So a few days should be enough time for me to get myself ready to hit the road and for Made to get over his cold.

And that has been my day so far, other than enjoying so much of the things Ubud has to offer. It is a feast for the senses. Walking around I am awestruck at the beauty of the place, from not just a physical perspective, but also spiritual. Offerings are constantly being made (mostly by women) to the gods, who seem to be everywhere. Beautiful sarongs in beautiful colors are worn by both men and women, and men also wear these dashing head scarves that really make them look exotic. The sights, smells and sounds combine to make it a feast for the senses. Added to that the warmth of the people, even if it is only to make a buck, and this really does feel like paradise.

Ok, Epi (I just asked her name) has finished praying, so I can wrap up now and go look for dinner. Now she told me her name is really Sedani - Sedan with an i! She is really funny. Epi is her nickname. She laughed when I told her my name is Ketut Rick (that's what Made calls me) and then she told me she is Made too. Oy, this is confusing.

Ok, time for me to hunt down some new food.

Kecak - Balinese Fire Dance

2009-11-28T16:37:00.001-08:00

After using the internet cafe with the very friendly, chatty girl, I crossed the street to the Dirty Duck Diner. It was early, only 5:00, but I was starving and I saw people were still going in. I imagined it was quite a scene at lunchtime and also later for dinner, and I wanted to avoid the scene. My friend Yaari told me rich Indonesians go there, and the girl at the internet cafe told me they don't treat her very well because she looks like she can't afford it (she looked fine to me with her beautiful sarong and her t-shirt that said "It's Very Hot!" (at first I thought it said, "I'm Very Hot!")

The place was nice, not a diner at all, but a collection of eating areas, some tables and some areas that were set up on platforms with pillows and low tables. I don't know why foreigners choose those places to sit if they can't sit with their legs crossed. I saw one guy climb up on the platform with his flip flops on and walk on the pillows with them! What an idiot! I saw others lounging like they were out of some Rubens painting waiting to be fed grapes. Seriously, if you can't cross your legs and sit like a real Asian would, then sit at a table!

I was happy to sit at a table. I ordered the crispy duck, because why else would I go to the Dirty Duck Diner?

It was as was promised. Crispy. Supposedly the duck is marinated for 36 hours with special herbs and spices, but really it was so crispy, I couldn't taste much. Most of the meat was crispy and dried out as well. I dipped it in this delicious fresh tomato sambal (spicy sauce) after I realized I would not be covering up any subtle flavors. I would say my $2.00 nasi campur was just as good even if the atmosphere was not as fancy. But the DDD seems like a nice place to go for a little splurge, or maybe if I meet a nice Indonesian person who I want to treat for a special meal.

As far as being treated specially, I was not. Maybe like the girl at the internet cafe, they looked at me as if I were a peasant (well, I kind of am at heart), or maybe because it was a bad time and they were getting ready for dinner, or maybe they don't treat anyone special and the girl at the internet cafe has high expectations since Balinese seem to treat everyone like royalty.

Aside from the oafish foreigners would could not sit cross-legged, I also saw what I guess were some rich Indonesians. Big cameras seem to be in these days. I mean, REALLY big, National Geographic type cameras. I don't understand them. I saw them a lot when I was in Europe. Tourists in their three-quarter length shorts with Tevas (standard tourist garb) and these big cameras hanging around their necks. Nothing like trying to stick out like a sore thumb. The Malaysian guy in my Thai cooking class also had a really big camera, which he used incessantly.

At the DDD, there were several people, they are always men, walking around with these big cameras taking pictures of every flower, statue, or anything else that caught their eye. One guy went back to join his girlfriend who was taking a picture of something with her i-phone! It would be interesting to do a study to look at gender differences in terms of the use of photographic devices. I must have missed the memo that real men have big cameras.

Anyway, from there, I returned to my hotel, read a little and finally decided to take a walk. As I was leaving, I met the older Indonesian guy with really bad teeth who seems to be the manager or big boss at my hotel. I didn't like him at first because when I went to check out the room the nice young guy at the desk gave me my special deal of $40 per night. Then this guy came along and kind of made it seem like that was a problem, but, he was going to give me this special favor. But he insisted I leave 400,000 rupiah as a deposit. It sounds like a lot of money, but it is just $40. I didn't know why he wanted cash and not just my credit card, since they could charge my credit card whatever they wanted if I didn't show.

He was insisting they would return the 400,000 rp when I left, but I told him it would not do me any good since I would be leaving the country and could not spend it. The guy behind the desk understood this, but this older guy was a little slow to get it. Finally he said if I pay for a week on my credit card when I return he would return my cash deposit.

Yesterday as I was leaving to go to the internet cafe, he asked me if I could pay for four nights. He told me that the owner was upset that he gave me a deal of $40 per night because in high season they raise the rates (high season does not really start until December 20th). I told him I could pay for a week. He said he just wanted me to pay for four nights. I think it was because he told the owner (his cousin) that I had already paid for four nights. It all seems very complicated to me, but that is what I did. I paid for four nights. And I told him anytime he wanted me to pay again, I could. As long as I am using my credit card, I can pay anytime they want!

So, last night after returning from the DDD and resting, I was leaving and ran into this older guy. I have to get his name, since he seems like he will be a recurring character. He asked me where I was going, I said, "jalan jalan" - which I remember from my first trip to Indonesia is the appropriate response - it means "walking walking", and that is what I was going to do. Walk. Since I was in a new neighborhood with more going on, I wanted to see what was up on a Saturday evening.

I asked him where he was going and he told me his studio. He told me he is a painter. I think a lot of people are painters here, or dancers, or artists of some sort. We chatted a bit and then he invited me to a cremation! It seemed like quite an invitation and I am not sure how serious he was. I know in some cultures people invite others to do things but don't really mean it. I hesitated a bit because I knew I would feel slightly out of place and really stick out like a sore thumb, but also I knew it was an amazing opportunity. I pointed to my shorts and t-shirt and said, "can I go like this?" and he said, "of course". So we will see. The cremation is today and according to Lonely Planet is the most lavish and expensive of the Balinese rights of passage. The body is carried around in some sort of towering carriage, and tossed about and turned around so as to confuse it, allowing the spirit to break free until the body is finally burned. It must be something to see!

I knew I was going to pass this place that had dance performances and I knew that Saturday night was the Kecak - Balinese Fire Dance, and I knew I wanted to see it (I had seen it in a movie, something like Powaqaatsi or one of those type films), but I didn't know I would see it last night.

As I walked up the street away from my hotel, I noticed everything was very dark. A few places had these weird lights. Others had candles. Apparently the power was out. I felt guilty about leaving my air-con on. I thought I was going for a short walk and wanted my room cool when I returned. I guess my hotel was operating on a generator.

As I passed the dance place in the dark, I could see the shadows of men, white teeth glaring, with these little white spots on their temples that seemed to glow in the dark. One of them asked me if I was going. "To what?" I asked, but I already knew. Within minutes he had sold me a ticket to the fire dance and I was seated on a plastic chair in the front row looking at a very fancy tower that had little flames all over it.

At exactly 7 p.m. the dance started. A little toddler who had been fussing and crying suddenly sat spellbound (he eventually fell asleep) as the men came out, all wearing sarongs with flowers in their hair, white spots on their temples, hands raised and fingers moving about wildly like they were typing on some imaginary keyboard in the sky. They were grunting and making funny noises, but all moving in unison. They sat cross-legged on the ground and began moving from side to side in unison. Moving their shoulders together. Their heads all moved at the same time. And all the while they were making this funny noise kekakekakekakekakekakeka. It was amazing. I felt an intense feeling of joy wash over me. I am not sure why. I felt like smiling, laughing, but I didn't think it would be appropriate. It wasn't that I thought it was funny, but it was so much fun! I've seen Indonesian dance performances before and enjoyed them, but this felt really magical. I felt like I had wandered into the deep jungle and stumbled across some strange unknown culture and was witnessing one of the most sacred of rituals.

The performance was an hour and 15 minutes. During that time the men chanted most of the time. At times, different demons and beautiful maidens came out and did things around the fire. I was focused on the men and the kekakekakekakekakekakeka and the woo woo woo woo woo woo and the other sounds that were interwoven with the kekakekakekakekakekakeka. It was amazing.

Afterwards, I ran into Philip, the guy from my old guest house. He was there with Ketut, one of the many guys who work there. At first I thought Ketut was Made, the guy who takes care of my room at Artini. I'm ashamed to say but so many of these young Indonesian guys look the same to me. I recognized Ketut by the Alaska t-shirt he wore every day, but he wasn't wearing it. And Made wears pink Croc-type shoes. I'm not saying they all look alike, but they are very similar in size, coloring, hair, eyes, etc., and it is kind of hard when I am meeting so many people in such a short time.

And so I may have said it before, but I will say it again. I am loving Ubud. I now feel like I am in the right place and I think the next month will be filled with all kinds of exciting adventures. Between cremations and dance performances and massages and healings and shamans and cooking classes and just sitting by the pool, I think I will find plenty to keep me occupied for the next month!

Hot!!! Hot!!! Hot!!!

2009-11-27T16:11:00.000-08:00

It is very hot here. It's like a sauna. I felt like my blood was boiling yesterday and I was going to cook. So, I set out to find a new hotel.

Between my spotty internet connection and a bit of walking around, I succeeded. I found a place on a nice little tourist strip with lots of shops, restaurants and massage/healing offerings, that has air-con, a nice pool and a well-tended garden. It's a little more than what I am paying now and doesn't have internet, but the place I am in now only has internet if I bring my laptop up to the breakfast gazebo or the air-conditioned library that is not always air-conditioned (if it were, I would be spending all of my time in there!)

Other than the heat, I had a good day yesterday. Ubud is growing on me. I want to see more. I am going to take some tours and eventually get my own transport, either a bike or a motor-bike, once I know my way around a little better. There is no hurry to do any of those things. I have 4 weeks here!

I walked up a road I thought the Sari Spa Hotel was located on because I was considering it as an option for my new digs, but I was on the wrong road. It was interesting to see a little of Ubud beyond the tourist shops though and see how people really live. I thought the road was lined by temples, but actually they were all family compounds. Each compound is surrounded by a beautiful stone wall and at the entrance is a statue of a god - usually ganesh - the elephant god. There are little packets of flowers, rice and crackers all over the place - on the sidewalk, on steps, in front of garages, on cars and motorcycles - all offerings to the gods.

My posting this morning was interrupted by a very nice guy from New Zealand who was staying at my former hotel. Also my batteries on my computer were about to die. Now I am in a nice internet cafe across from the Dirty Duck Diner, a place I have my eye on for dinner tonight. There is a very sweet Balinese girl working here who is very chatty, so I am not sure if I can finish now, but I will try.

First, breakfast with Phillip. He was one of the most interesting people I've ever met, and he was gay. Big surprise for me. He told me he is living in Timor a former Indonesian island that is now independent (I didn't realize they gained their independence). He is an advisor for the NZ army there. He told me a lot of stories about how difficult it is there for the Timorese and how bad the UN is in dealing with issues. It reminded me a lot of the stories of Haiti. It is very sad. Things that we take for granted like running water are a luxury there. People spend most of their day going to get water and transporting it back to their homes - usually it is not clean and because it is limited, they can only use it for cooking, not bathing.

After breakfast, I packed up my things and changed hotels. I am now staying at a place called Artini Cottages. I have a lovely bungalow with a really big bed a nice bathroom and most importantly, air-conditioning!!! It also has a nice pool, which I saw yesterday but didn't think I would really enjoy. To the contrary, I spent most of the day at the pool today. I figured one way for me to help my body adjust to the heat would be to try to stay out in it as long as I can. Shutting myself up in an air-conditioned room will not help. Phillip told me this morning that he found Ubud cold! How could that be? At 8 a.m., while we sat having our breakfast, I was drenched with sweat.

So now it seems like I am all set to begin enjoying Bali. Actually, I already have. It is amazing how something so simple as a room can make a difference. I think the location is also better. The young woman in the internet cafe told me Artini is a very good place to stay and that I got a very good deal.

The people who work at Artini are also very nice (the ones at the other place were nice too). The guy who carried my bag to my room and I guess also cleans my room (and tends the garden) called me Ketut Rick. Balinese names are interesting. They are named for the order in their family. Wayan, which is a very common name for both men and women, is the first-born. Made, is the second. Ketut is number four. So, Made, my new friend at Artini, called me Ketut Rick. He even wrote it down on a little piece of paper. He put his name, Made, and his last name and then (Bali) in parentheses. And then he wrote Ketut Rick (America). It was very sweet, as I am finding the Balinese in general are. They flash amazingly large smiles with brilliant white teeth and even the guys sitting by the side of the road saying "transpor?" and making funny steering-wheel gestures, are kind of charming.

After I checked in and went for a swim, I went out to forage for food. On Thursday I ate at a place called Nomad, which is featured in Lonely Planet and had a large crowd for dinner. It's kind of famous I guess. They have an organic garden and a fusion menu and fancy decoration. The food was okay. I was really hungry, so I wasn't too picky about it. I got gado gado, an Indonesian standard, only this was not served the usual way. It was rolled up in rice paper like spring rolls and hard to eat. I would have preferred it as a salad, like it usually is served. I then sampled some Indonesian tapas - chicken satay, fish satay and martabak (which I think might be Indian). They were all good, but nothing to write home about. I finished with black rice pudding in coconut milk, which is one of my favorite deserts. It was so bad, I didn't finish it.

Yesterday I had afternoon tea at Matahari, my old guest house. It was weird sitting in the middle of this overgrown garden eating little finger sandwiches and cake. I only liked a few of the cakes. Most of them seemed old. One was warmed up, I think to hide its staleness. For dinner, I walked around a little. I had one place in mind but when I went there it turned out to be a Thai restaurant. I saw no point in eating Thai food in Indonesia. So, unable to find any alternative, I went back to Nomad. I got chicken curry. How could you mess up chicken curry? They did. It was not good. I think it will be the last time I go to Nomad.

Today for lunch I stopped at a small Warung (food stall) outside of Nur Salon, the place I had my Javanese massage yesterday. I ordered nasi campur, which is rice with an assortment of things around it. It was delicious! And it was only $2.00!!! I think what I have discovered is that the very touristy places are overpriced and not that good, and the more local places do some pretty good Indonesian food. A major generalization after only a few meals, but I'm going with it.

So, now my goal is to adjust to the heat and little by little start exploring. There is so much to do. I already found a place with cooking classes. There are nightly dance performances. I can rent a bike or motorbike and explore on my own. And of course, I can just laze by the pool and read.

I feel kind of odd spending one month in the same place when Bali seems to have so much to offer, but if I learned anything from my travels through Europe, I learned that the longer I stayed in a place, the more I began to appreciate its subtle charms. So far Ubud's charms are not subtle at all = they are in-your-face charms, but it will be interesting to see how I feel after one month. I've already met more people than I did in my two and a half months in Europe and I have only been here two and a half days!

Ubud, Bali

2009-11-26T15:32:00.001-08:00

I really need to brush my teeth.

And this is the way it begins.

I woke up yesterday as I have since I arrived in Bangkok, early. Several times. I had managed to stay up until about 10 p.m., and then crashed, but woke up at 3, at 4, at 5, and finally at 6 decided to get up, exercise, pack and get ready for my flight which for some reason I thought was at 2 or 3 p.m. I wasn't sure.

Then I thought about my arrival time in Denpasar, since I had already told the hotel so they could send someone to pick me up. It seemed I had told them 2:15, but was I arriving later?

I decided to check my itinerary. Something maybe I should have done sooner.

Good thing I did. I was getting all of my flights confused - Chiang Mai, return to Bangkok and this one. Turns out my flight left at 8:50 a.m.! I had very little time to get ready.

I rushed to throw everything in my backpack and in that rush I left my toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom of my hotel. Fortunately, I got everything else, except a few items of dirty laundry which the maid found when they checked my mini-bar.

I made it to the airport in plenty of time and had a little time to buy a snack and some lavender spray (I read on the internet that my room was kind of musty, so I wanted to be prepared).

The flight was four hours from Bangkok to Denpasar. It was uneventful other than the Indian family that surrounded me and seemed to think the flight attendants were their own personal servants. They did not stop ringing their call button during the entire flight. Peanuts. More peanuts. Tea. More tea. Vegetarian meal (even though they hadn't ordered it). I felt so sorry for the Thai flight attendants and eventually I moved to a different seat because they were stressing me out so much with not only their constant ordering, but also the way they treated the flight attendants. They were really rude and bossy. I guess that is how you treat servants.

I arrived at the airport and cleared customs and immigration. I had a nice little chat with the immigration officer about what I was going to do for 30 days. He recommended a beach that had big waves. He smiled when I told him I can't swim.

I've always wanted to be one of those people greeted at the airport with someone holding a sign. They always seem like they are special - VIPs. Well, there was someone waiting there holding a sign with my name! And there were about 50 other people standing there holding signs with other people's names. I guess everyone on my flight had arranged for an airport pick-up. So much for being special!

It was really hot as we exited the airport and went to my van. My driver, Wayan, was really nice. He flashed a really big smile and spoke decent English, even though he kept saying his English was not good. The van was hot, in spite of the air-con and traffic was horrendous. It took us 1 1/2 hours to get to Ubud.

I expected Ubud to be noticeably cooler. It wasn't. It was still hot.

My hotel, is a bungalow complex. There are about 6-8 bungalows all scattered around a very lush "garden" - I say "garden" because it is more like the jungle in miniature than a tended garden. It is rustic. Chickens and roosters provide the soundtrack, but there are also birds, crickets, geckos and babies crying. None of the gamelon players that Lonely Planet describes wafting over the rice paddies.

Well, breakfast is being served now and then I will go out and explore Ubud. I don't know what I will do for one month here. Perhaps I will find a new hotel, perhaps I will get used to where I am staying. I hope I will get used to the heat and not be eaten alive by the mosquitoes, which have already begun to sample my tasty American flesh.

I'm So Full!

2009-11-24T03:22:00.001-08:00

Everything here is saying, "eat me!!! eat me!!!" - well, the food that is. And it is so hard to resist. It is everywhere and it looks and smells so good.

Today after a light breakfast - fruit, boiled rice soup with fish, some noodles and vegetables, I set out on my week's mission - finding a laundry.

I knew of a laundry place that is tucked away on a soi off of Silom Road near the hotel I used to stay at that was called the Tower Inn. It is now a Unico Hotel and it is not as cheap as it used to be (I hope they change the air-conditioners in the rooms now that they are charging more). Anyway, the laundry place was cheap from what I remembered. Cheaper than what the hotel charges, but it is a few blocks away from here. I was sure I could find something closer.

The past few days I have been combing the sois around my hotel to see if I could spot something. There is a place I used before that looks like a dry cleaner and they seemed confused when I brought t-shirts before. But as I left the hotel this morning with a black trash bag filled with clothes a taxi driver standing outside said, "laundry?". I asked him if there was one nearby and he directed me to the place around the corner that is a dry cleaner. I decided to go and check it out before heading over to Silom.

When I went in, I saw that they had price lists for dry cleaning and laundry. They were asking 40 baht per shirt, which is about the same as the hotel charges. I told them never mind and left.

As I headed over towards Silom Road, I passed another place. Again I went in and checked the prices and again it was per piece and the same as my hotel. If I was going to pay those prices, I would just have my hotel do it and deliver the clothes the next day.

And so I went over to Silom Road, past what used to be the Tower Inn and found the little laundry place tucked away in a little quiet soi. They charge 5-10 baht per piece and a t-shirt was 10 baht instead of 40 (1 dollar = 33 baht,so that is kind of expensive).

After dropping my clothes off, I wandered down a little street that has a market. I used to go there regularly to buy fresh fruit - pineapple, mango, etc. I wanted to take some photos. There was food everywhere, yummy, aromatic, fresh and tempting food. I saw a group of foreigners crowded around one stall and then noticed they had little baskets and were collecting ingredients. It must be one of the other cooking schools. I'm glad we don't have to go around with little baskets and go shopping in a group.

I bought a kilo of mangosteens for 20 baht (less than a dollar) and a container of sticky rice with mango for 30 (they charge 80 at MBK food court). I then went searching for a guy I saw deep frying bananas while I was looking for the soi with the laundry place, but I couldn't find him. I thought he was on the other side of the street, but he wasn't. He must have moved. Walking up Silom Road however, I did find someone else selling fried banana chips. They were dipped in batter and deep fried with sesame seeds. They were really yummy and I ate quite a few before giving the bag to a very down-and-out looking guy who was stumbling down the street (it was hard to look at him, but it looked like his shorts were covered in blood). He gave me a wai and thanked me in Thai and English.

After dropping off my purchases, I headed to MBK. My plan was to eat and get an "eye treatment" and then go to school.

I arrived and went straight upto the food court. I had a beef noodle soup with Chinese herbs. It was not that good. I thought it was this beef noodle soup I really like that I get at the weekend market, but it didn't have a very good flavor. I then went and got a Thai desert - assorted little jellies and things in coconut milk with chopped ice on top. Very yummy.

From there I wandered around a little, looking for socks because the pair I put on this morning ripped when I was putting them on. I didn't find any socks I liked, but did see some things I might buy later.

I then headed down to the 3rd floor for my eye treatment. Since my facial the bags and dark circles under my eyes have become more apparent. Nice Face offers an "eye treatment" exactly for that. Instead of Nice Face however, I tried another place a few doors down. The woman at Nice Face standing outside trying to get customers kind of creeped me out. She was a little too friendly if you know what I mean.

I don't know the name of this place.

I laid down on the reclining chair and the treatment began. It felt like a facial. Again with the very cold creams. This time she was massaging my face and circling around my eyes. At one point she was pinching my skin with some metal object and it really hurt. I was thinking of the saying, "beauty is pain" and wondering how women endure some of the things that are done to them in the name of beauty. I could do without the pain.

Finally, she finished and I headed to school. I thought I was late, but the morning session went over and we had to wait until about 1:40 (class is supposed to begin at 1:30)

There were four other students today besides me and the Malaysian guy. One guy was Scottish and the other three wer from England. The Malaysian guy is really getting on my nerves with the picture taking, but fortunately, the other students didn't follow suit today. As he was taking photos one of the British women, just grabbed the food and then we all followed. I was so glad. I was really getting tired of having to wait for everyone to take their photos of the demonstration food. This guy has this huge camera and takes several shots of everything. You'd think by now he would have gotten it out of his system.

We made a jungle curry with beef, chicken soup with coconut milk (always one of my favorites), stir fried glass noodles with shrimp and these cute little packages filled with shrimp and chicken. For desert we made a banana custard that was steamed.

I am so full now and really ready to sleep, even though it is only 6:45. I might try taking a little nap and then going out for a walk.

Tomorrow is my last day in Bangkok for now. It's been a fun time and I have really been enjoying the cooking classes. When I come back after Bali, I might try a bike tour. I think there is still so much I could do here, and thanks to the internet I have more access to the possibilities than I ever did before.

I'm in Love

2009-11-23T05:54:00.000-08:00

As far as I am concerned, I could just as well take or leave Barcelona, Sevilla, Rome, and all of the other Europeans cities that are on everyone's top 10 list. I'd much rather come to Bangkok, especially in the cool season.

Sure it was nice to be in Europe and see some European stuff, old and new, but as far as I am concerned, none of the cities I visited can hold a candle to Bangkok in terms of the possibilities that are offered.

First of all, Bangkok is a very affordable city. There are so many hotels and more and more being built. Unlike Rome, where I slept in a closet-sized room for over $100 per night, I am in a very luxurious room in a really nice hotel with a pool and exercise room and a delicious breakfast buffet for about $55 per night. Meals are cheap, especially if you eat in food courts or on the street, but even in a restaurant, a decent meal would not cost more than $10-15.

And the food! It's just amazing!!! Taking cooking classes is introducing me to a lot of Thai food that I don't usually eat. Normally I have a few standards I go for - green curry, green papaya salad, fried rice, and when I am in Bangkok, some soups and a steamed pork with rice that I like. But I am eating so much amazing food. It all tastes so fresh and healthy and the flavors are so complex and layered. Making it myself allows me to adjust things like the sodium and heat, so the food has really been just perfect for me.

I've already mentioned how I feel like a royal with everyone greeting me with smiles and a wai, and that feeling continues. Add to the royal treatment, the fact that I can get massages, facials, teeth cleaning and any other service I want for a fraction of what I would pay in the US. I had a massage earlier today and just finished with a foot massage. I booked a teeth cleaning for Wednesday.

But what I am really loving is being able to walk around and just see Thais going about their normal business. Today I went to the shopping center I tried to find yesterday. It is called Gaysorn (I know, what a name) and the place I wanted sells all kinds of natural soaps and aromatherapy products. I bought some soap and aromatic oil.

I took the Skytrain there (which is one more thing I love) and from Chit Lom station, there is an elevated walkway that goes to different shopping centers and department stores. I remember walking down on the street below in pre-Skytrain days. It was not easy to walk on the crowded and uneven sidewalks and not pleasant with all of the traffic. But here I was, above it all, able to look down on the street below. I could see taxis and tuk tuks, and buses and cars chugging along, and pedestrians and vendors and little shrines with people praying. I really enjoyed being able to witness everything from above.

Because I had a massage, I was running a little late for school and didn't have time to stop anywhere to eat. Plus I was on Sukhumvit Road, which is a major tourist trap these days and there weren't many options. But, I knew at Surasak Station where my cooking school is, there are some vendors selling things like fried chicken or hot dogs wrapped up in crepes. I thought I would get a small snack and a lemon grass drink since I have been feeling so full lately and I knew I'd be eating at school.

I looked at the chicken, which was very tempting, but I didn't know how to order it. It turned out that the chicken guy was at the entrance to a little eatery that had several people cooking. One woman was making stir fried noodles. Another had this stewed pork I like and that is what I ordered. I went and sat down and she brought me my meal, which was really like a little snack (I guess I know why so many Thais are not fat - portion size!). It was the perfect meal, but I had time to kill and wanted some fruit or something. So I walked down the street and found a fairly good sized market, filled with people eating and surrounded by vendors selling all kinds of food (I will probably go there one day this week). It was truly amazing and even though I wanted to take pictures, I knew that a photo could not capture what it was like there.

After school I walked home because I was full from dinner. It was a pleasant walk, even though it was rush hour and there was a lot of traffic, but it was cool. Kids were just getting out of school and I enjoyed seeing them congregating at food vendors on the sidewalk or open air restaurants.

I stopped at the Silom Dental Center to make an appointment for a teeth cleaning and from there walked to Silom Road and down the soi that is a bustling market place at lunchtime. Things were closing down and many vendors had gone home. I saw some of the vendors sitting down together for a meal, probably their first break all day. Others were still going strong and all kinds of foods were still on display. It is mind-boggling how much food is being sold on the street every day.

Finally, I arrived back at my hotel, rested a little and went to the little massage place across the parking lot for a foot massage (my feet are getting tired from so much walking). The massage was not the best, but for $10 I really can't complain.

I know Bangkok can be stressful and sometimes annoying, but on this trip, I am really appreciating all it has to offer and I know that there is so much more that is beyond my limited experience here. I'm feeling like I would like to spend more time here, learn some Thai, and really get to know Bangkok beyond the tourist track.

For now, I am content with everything I am doing now and so happy to have a city that feels so welcoming.

MBK

2009-11-22T14:29:00.000-08:00

Taking cooking classes as somehow heightened my senses. I don't know what it is. Maybe because I am eating such delicious food, I am super satisfied. Maybe because it is cool and possible to walk around in Bangkok, I am able to notice things. I don't know, but I am enjoying myself immensely.

Yesterday we had another teacher, a little chubby guy named Charles. I asked him about his name because he said he was Thai, and he told me it was his Christian name. Apparently he went to a missionary school, which was also why he spoke English well. He was the first teacher we had that I could understand clearly.

Charles showed us how to make four dishes, mostly from the Northeast of Thailand. I think the Northeast is close to Laos, because northeastern dishes are similar to Lao food. Thais often disginguish northestern food from the rest of Thai dishes. They are usually spicier or more sour or both.

We made panang curry (which actually is not Northeast cooking), crab souffle, a spicy and sour soup (similar to Tom Yam, but made with sour tamarind juice instead of lime) and green papaya salad. Everything was good of course, but I liked the soup and the salad the best.

I ate in the restaurant with four of the other students. There is one Malaysian guy who is taking 7 days of classes. He started on the same day as me. He is a bit odd. He had a HUGE camera and is constantly taking pictures. After the teacher demonstrates the recipe, we are all invited to sample it, but this guy always has to take several pictures. Because of him, the other students then pull out their cameras and we all have to stand there and wait while everyone takes a picture. It's really silly because we are going to make the dish and can take a picture of our own food. Plus the food looks so good and we have to stand there and wait.

There was a Chinese couple (maybe from Hong Kong) who spoke to each other in Chinese and a South Asian guy who was very serious and didn't speak. It was an interesting contrast to lunch on Saturday where there were a lot of Westerners and the conversation was very interactive.

In general, we have too much food to eat. I tried preparing my stomach by having a smaller breakfast - only vegetables and a little fried noodles, oh and some congee with pork, oh, and some fruit....I guess my breakfast wasn't that small, but I steered clear of meat and the bready stuff. Still, I couldn't finish everything and only concentrated on the things I liked. My papaya salad was really spicy because I pounded my chilis too much. We had ice cream for desert, which I needed to cool the fire in my mouth.

After we finished, I decided to walk to my hotel and explore some more of the back streets. I ended up on a street that only took me to Silom Road with no option to turn. I used to walk Silom Road a lot when I took massage classes years ago. I was staying in a hotel on Silom and had to walk to the river to catch the boat, but it's been a while, so I enjoyed the walk.

When I got to skytrain I decided to go and look for a shopping center I found last time that has a store that sells some very nice aromatherapy products. I like to spray aromatherapy oils in my hotel rooms to make them smell a little less like hotel rooms. I couldn't remember what shopping center this place was in though, and it was a Sunday afternoon and every place I went into was packed with Thais out strolling about in large groups. It was hard to get around, and I never found the shop (I checked my guide book when I got home and I was in the wrong place completely).

As I headed towards the skytrain to come back to my hotel, I passed the entrance to MBK. MBK is this huge shopping center. It is kind of like a market place that is stacked seven floors high. It used to be very dingy and kind of scary looking, but after a fire some years back, they remodeled it and it looks shiny and nice. It is a maze and I always get lost. You can buy just about anything there. I think they only thing they don't sell is fresh food, but I could be wrong about that. I don't think I've ever made it through the whole shopping center since I usually am exhausted after just one floor.

I was hungry after passing so many food venders on the streets and inside the shopping centers and wanted something a little sweet. I knew MBK had a food court and I could get sticky rice with mango, so I went in.

At first I ended up at the International Food Court, which I never knew existed. It looked interesting, but they didn't have what I wanted. I asked one of the girls working there where the other food court was and she sent me up to the 6th floor.

I love the MBK food court. There are so many places to choose from and the signs are in Thai and English.

You buy coupons from a little booth and then go and choose the food you want and pay with coupons. Any coupons you don't use can be exchanged for cash as you leave.

I only changed 50 baht because I wasn't planning on eating a lot, but the sticky rice with mango was 80 baht (most meals are usually 30-40 baht), I had to go back and get more coupons. It was worth it. Even though this is not mango season, the mangos are incredible. The combination of the mango with the rice with coconut milk is really nice. I gulped it down and it was so good I wanted another. Instead I sat and rested because I was so tired from my morning exercise and so much walking. I was hoping that by allowing myself to digest a little, the feeling of wanting more would go away. It never did, but still I refrained (mostly because I didn't want to buy more coupons again) and I left.

As I headed out, I passed a place I had seen on the way in. People were lying on reclining chairs getting facials. I was feeling like my skin needed a good cleaning after all of this travel, and especially after walking around in Bangkok. I stopped to look and a woman outside showed me a flyer with a description of the facial. There were like 16 different things they apply or do to you for only 500 baht (about 15 dollars). I thought it would be a good way to relax a little before heading back to my hotel and no matter how good the facial was, you couldn't beat the price. And so I went in.

I laid down on this reclining chair and the woman working on me began by cleaning my face with warm water and then applying a very cold cream. The process continued and more very cold creams were applied. It was almost painful, some of them were so cold. At one point, she applied a mask, which started as a cold cream that was very thick, but also runny and began running down my face and neck. I tried to stop it dripping down my neck, but it was impossible. Finally, it began to harden and then she peeled it off.

She also applied really cold strips of cucumber and then covered my face with a towel, sealing in the cold. I felt like she was trying to freeze my face so that she could then lift it off.

The whole time there was a lot of chattering and movement as people came and went. It felt like I was getting a facial in the middle of a marketplace and not in a spa. There was no mood lighting (florescent light bulbs lit the place up), no mood music and no aromatherapy. It was a basic no frills kind of place, exactly in line with the whole spirit of MBK, where most things are no frills and very cheap. It's one of the reasons why I love MBK. Compared with the expensive, glittery new shopping centers, it is a real Thai experience and a visit to Bangkok is never complete withtout a visit to MBK.

I Feel Royal

2009-11-21T18:13:00.000-08:00

I don't know if it is because I am a tourist, staying in a hotel or if this feeling is just a result of experiencing the beauty of Thai culture, but I feel like a royal. I am being treated like a king.

Every morning I go down to my fabulous breakfast buffet and am greeted by warm smiles, a warm greeting, and the beautiful "wai" - the Thai way of greeting. It is a prayer-like gesture, hands pressed together and raised to about nose level. I feel as if a red carpet has been thrown down every time I pass through the lobby. What a difference from the "diga" in Spain!

And then there is the food! It is everywhere. Every little space on the sidewalks, every alley, is filled with people cooking up something. Most of it is not terribly tempting to me - a lot of fried stuff, hot dogs, fish balls, etc., but it is everywhere and I have never paid as much attention to it as I am on this trip.

But of course, my favorite dishes have been the ones I've been making in school. Yesterday we had the head chef, the founder of the Blue Elephant. I think her name is Noon. When I first took classes there in April 2008, I met her daughter, I think her name was Sandra. She was a lovely woman who was half Thai and half Belgian. She told us about her mother starting this cooking school, which specializes in Royal Thai Cooking. She has actually cooked for the Royal Family.

There was also a Belgian film crew there yesterday interviewing Noon and filming our class. I guess I will appear on Belgian TV some time in the future!

We made four delicious dishes yesterday. We started with Massaman Curry with chicken. Noon explained where Massaman Curry came from, but like most of the teachers, it was hard to decipher a lot of her English, and it was complicated by the fact that she was pounding the spices in a mortar while she was talking.

Massaman means Muslim, but I didn't get the connection, since it seems the curry was introduced to Thailand by some king in the past. Perhaps it was imported from some other place? Maybe Malaysia. Noon said it is one of the most difficult curries to make, and our curry was delicious, well, mine was anyway. She showed us how to make the paste, but for our own curry we used packaged curry paste (Blue Elephant brand) and added some extra spices - cinnamon, cardamom and bay leaf. The spices were really wonderful in the curry and if it had cooked even longer, I'm sure it would have been even better. I can't wait to try it at home.

Next we made a steamed fish with lime dressing. The fish was steamed in a steamer with herbs - lemon grass, galangal and lime leaves, and then we made a yummy dressing with lime, chili, garlic and coriander root. How can anything with those ingredients not be totally yummy? It was one of my favorite dishes so far. It felt like it was healthy and was so fresh and delicious. I'm glad I am learning some ways to cook fish, since I am so intimidated by it.

Next we made pork with black pepper and lemon grass. Noon showed us how to fry lemon grass and then we stir fried the pork and put the fried lemon grass on top. It was okay. I think I cooked mine too much, but I was afraid to eat raw pork.

And our final dish was a delicious soup with asparagus and chopped prawns in coconut milk. This was an old traditional recipe that Noon updated with asparagus for foreign cooks. It is normally made with lotus root, but since it is not available in most Western countries, she makes it with asparagus. The combination of prawns, asparagus and coconut milk was delicious.

We ate our lunch in the restaurant. The class was fairly large, and it was a nice group of people. There were students from Australia, the UK, a few Americans, Japanese and Taiwanese, and one guy who I guessed might have been Belgian or French. We were a really happy crowd.

After lunch, I came home stuffed and had to rest a little. It was kind of warm, so it was a good time to take a nap.

Later, I went out for a walk, and stopped to get a massage. I had a one-hour massage and the pressure was perfect. My body felt so tight and it was so good to have it stretched. They tried talking me into a "combination" massage. I am not sure what that is, but they said it is more deep pressure and not so much stretching, but I told them I really needed the stretching. I guess Thais are learning that foreigners do not appreciate the Thai style of massage - well I do, and it was just what I needed. They had a sauna in the massage place but it wasn't too hot so I didn't stay long. I showered and left.

By then I was getting hungry, but I was so full earlier, I didn't want to eat a full meal. It was evening and the vendors on the street had changed to the night-time crew. Silom Road was buzzing as the night market geared up and Patpong prepared itself for a night of revelry and gawking tourists. I passed several options for food - chicken and rice, noodle soup, fried chicken, and finally stopped for some satay - well, I thought it was satay. I got two chicken and two pork skewers, but instead of satay sauce, they put chili sauce. Fine by me. I ate them as I walked back to my hotel, totally satisfied with my day.

I slept really well and had to drag myself out of bed at 6:30 so that I could use the treadmill in the gym and get to breakfast in time to make it to the cooking school by ten. I guess there was no need to rush, but it was nice to wake up feeling refreshed and satisfied (and hungry). The morning was deliciously fresh and cool and I opened the windows in the exercise room while I tried to burn off some of the extra poundage I've picked up in the past few months. I am so glad I am able to be in Bangkok during the "cool" season. It's 68 degrees now according to my computer (Thais are probably walking around with winter coats on) and will go up to a chilly 84 today. I'm used to it being so hot and humid here that walking feels like you are moving through hot water rather than air.

I'm almost sorry I am going to leave here, even though I am looking forward to Bali. I think in the years I've been coming to Bangkok, I have had a range of feelings about the place. Mostly I like it, but I reach a point where the traffic, the heat and the noise eventually start to wear on me. This time however, I have found a new sweetness about the place. Is it because I am getting older and able to appreciate the subtle charms beyond the surface, or is it because Bangkok somehow is becoming more charming?

All I know is that right now I am feeling like a king, and it's a nice feeling.

Eat, Eat, Eat

2009-11-20T05:35:00.000-08:00

My version of Eat, Pray, Love, would be called, Eat, Eat, Eat, since that is all I seem to be doing on my travels. But there is no place better to eat than in Thailand.

In Bangkok, food is everywhere. Walking down the street, especially around lunchtime, the streets are filled with the smells of a variety of food and vendors prepare all kinds of dishes to sell.

This morning after blogging, I went back to the little market I discovered. I had seen a "food court" and thought I would go there for lunch. It seemed clean and it was air-conditioned. I went out around 11:45, just in time to hit the lunchtime crowd.

I walked past the food court and it looked crowded. I hesitated and was going to walk to another place I saw deeper inside the market, but as I walked down the little soi with the market, it was packed and I knew that any place I went would be crowded, so I swallowed my traveler's pride and decided to be adventurous. This was new for me. In the past, I would have walked around afraid to go into a place that was so crowded. But this was Thailand and I'd already been putting myself in awkward situations and surviving. So in I went.

There was a woman sitting at a little podium and a sign in Thai mentioned two prices - 50 and 100 baht. I knew from being here before that there are places where you buy coupons and then take the coupons to the vendors. Usually I buy 100 baht and then return what I don't use - because the food is so cheap, that is often half of what I originally bought, but better safe than sorry.

So I gave the woman 100 baht and she gave me a little card, like a credit card. This was new, but I saw this credit card type thing in the bakery in Lisbon.

I went inside and it was a buzz of activity. A flood of office workers had filled the place, which was not that big. There were about 5 or 6 vendors. I had my eye on one place that looked like they sold chicken fried with chili, but there was a long line. Instead, I settled on a soup place because there was no line, there were easy pictures to point to, and it looked like the soup I had seen minutes earlier being sold on the street outside my hotel. I have not worked my way up to sitting on the street and eating, but that is the next frontier.

So I pointed to the picture and the woman asked me in English what kind of noodles I wanted. Gee, this was easier than I thought it would be. I ordered wide noodles, got my soup, put some condiments in it (different kinds of chili sauces mostly) and then hunted for a table.

Most tables were taken and those that didn't have people had umbrellas or other things reserving them. I finally found an empty spot next to two women and sat down.

The soup was good. I've had it before. It was a rich, pork flavored broth with pieces of pork, fish cakes and fish balls. It might have had a few prawns, I don't remember. I was the only foreigner there. I felt like I had forced my way into a private club, but no one seemed to care.

After lunch I went to the Blue Elephant Cooking School which is one skytrain station from where I am staying. I could have walked, but walking is not a pleasant experience in Bangkok due to the heat and traffic. Even the short walk to the station is grueling, walking along a soi with no sidewalk and lots of traffic.

I was served an herbal tea made from lemongrass with a beautiful orchid in it while I waited for class to begin. At 1:30, we were led to the classroom.

Our teacher was a young Thai woman. I think she said her name was Ni. I don't remember. Her English was good but sometimes a little difficult to understand. But once you got used to certain pronunciation difficulties she had, it got easier. Green for example was geen.

She showed us how to make a dish and then we went into the kitchen to prepare it. We did this with every dish we made. She also demonstrated a dipping sauce that we did not make.

We made four dishes and a desert - the first one was yellow curry with chicken, potatoes and pineapple. She showed us how to make the curry paste, but we made our curry with red curry paste (already prepared) and yellow curry powder and turmeric. Next we made desert - jasmine cake, made with mung bean flour, coconut milk and palm sugar. It was like a custard that was then baked. After that we made sweet, sour spicy prawns, fish baked with herbs in a banana leaf and grilled beef salad (yam nua).

Yam nua is one of my favorite Thai dishes. The first time I had it, two cute young gay guys from Northeastern Thailand watched as I ate it and the sweat poured off of me. They thought it was comical. They then explained to me that it was a northeastern dish. I think the name translates as "waterfall" or something like that. It has become my test of how good a Thai restaurant is. If they can make passable yam nua, then I think it is a good restaurant.

Well, the yam nua we made today was okay, but it didn't seem authentic to me. It was missing something and it definitely was not as spicy as the one I had years ago. I guess I can experiment and try different recipes, but what I found was that it is not hard to make at all. It seems like a good way to use leftover steak (not that I often have leftover steak, since I don't eat steak that much).

I opted to eat my meal in the restaurant but the other students in the class got theirs to go. I thought about getting mine to go too, because I have a refrigerator and a microwave in my room (as well as a little stove), but thought it would be nice to eat there in that lovely setting.

When I went down to the restaurant, the table was set with my four dishes. I started with the fish which was fabulous. A nice piece of sea bass baked with dill, basil, lemon grass and a paste of garlic, coriander root and galangal. It was perfectly spiced and really yummy. From there I sampled the other dishes and decided to eat the prawns. I knew I could not finish everything, I was already full, so I got the beef salad, the curry and my jasmine cake to go.

I don't know if I will ever become a masterful Thai chef, but I am learning some good little techniques to make Thai cooking a little easier. I mean, when you think about it, in households all over Thailand, people, mostly women, are preparing these dishes with nothing more than a mortar and pestle and a little fire. If they can do it, so can I.

Ah Bangkok!

2009-11-19T20:12:00.000-08:00

I'm old. Officially. It's true. Not that I just turned 50, but my body is telling me that it just isn't like it used to be.

When I lived in Japan from age 29-35, I made many trans-Pacific trips - long ones. I don't remember them being as hard as the trip I just took. It seems my body just doesn't like flying much anymore. My knees started to ache about halfway through the 12 hour flight to Tokyo from San Francisco. I got up several times and stood as much as I could (since I had a bulkhead seat, I could stand up and not bother anyone), but still, my legs were killing me. By the time I reached Bangkok over 24 hours later (28 hours door to door), my ankles were swollen and I was exhausted.

So first, a message to any young folks out there who might be reading this - don't wait until you get old to travel. I'm so glad I did a lot of traveling when I could because it seems to me, unless I spring for business class, I'm not going to be doing a whole lot of long trips anymore.

But, what a pleasure it was to arrive in Bangkok. My first trip here was in 1991. I was living in Japan and took a short vacation to get away and study for my comprehensive exams as I finished my masters. I flew to Bangkok, green as they come, got roped into staying in a hotel without knowing where it was, and took a "city tour" which included me buying lunch for my guide and driver and going to workshops where they did wood carving, made Thai silk and sold gems. I think we visited two temples before they took me shopping. I thought I would never get to my final destination, Koh Samui, but I did.

A lot has changed since that time. Not only do my ankles swell when I take long trips, I also know not to talk to anyone upon leaving customs. I ignored the tourist information booths, the calls for "taxi?" and any other offers of help. I walked as if I knew where I was going, which I sort of did, but didn't really since Bangkok has a new airport. I just followed the signs and my instincts.

Bankok's new airport is really spectacular. I could live there. I followed the signs to the "public taxi", which was downstairs from arrivals (for some reason, kind of hidden) - told them where I was going and got a short, sort of gremlin looking taxi driver who I did not have much faith in (based on a very judgemental first impression). I was not sure where my hotel was located exactly, though I had an idea and a google map. I told them the name. The driver didn't know it. I said Silom Soi sam (fortunately I know how to count to three in Thai - had it been Soi 4 or 5 I would have been out of luck).

As we walked to the taxi in this almost underground taxi hangout, the driver turned to me and asked me where I was from. US, I told him. "Washington?", he asked. No, San Francisco, I told him. I wonder if he knows where San Francisco is.

We got in the cab and he continued to ask me questions. Was this my first time to Thailand? How long was I staying? I reservedly answered because I was waiting for him to try to sell me something - lady massage, a tour, gems, something, but to my surprise and delight, it never happened. He was just a nice guy making conversation.

I asked him where he learned English. At first I thought he said by himself, which is usually the answer I get. Turned out he had said Saudi Arabia. He worked for 7 years there at Lockheed, a US company. He took classes at the US Embassy. There is a whole world out there that I am not aware of. His English was good. He understood everything I said, and I understood most of what he said.

It was after 2 a.m. when we began our journey from the airport to my hotel. I told the driver when I first came to Thailand there was no freeway, no skytrain and the taxis did not have meters. He told me skytrain was due to open in December and pointed to an overhead train track running to the airport. I wasn't talking about the airport line because I didn't even know it existed. I was referring to the two lines that run in the mostly touristy areas of Bangkok. In the old days you had to haggle with taxi and tuk tuk drivers anytime you wanted to go anywhere. Now there are air-conditioned meter taxis, skytrain and a subway. And the freeway makes the ride to and from the airport quick and pleasant. Bangkok is growing up nicely.

We moved quickly through the mostly quiet streets, most buildings were dark and there was very little traffic. I could smell the distinctive smell of Bangkok from the time I got off the plane - a mix of food (lemon grass and galangal), camphor and eucalyptus (Thais are addicted to the stuff)and car exhaust fumes. It is a heady mixture that I wish I could bottle and inhale anytime I need to feel myself back here.

It turned out the hotel I am staying, the FuramaXclusive, is the same hotel i stayed when I was here in April 2008. It was the Unico Sathorn then. It's a nice hotel, located on a quiet soi between two major streets - Silom and Sathorn. It is near the Patpong night market, which I avoid, but I like the convenience of the shopping centers, the skytrain station and other amenities that this area provides.

I was hoping I could order some room service when I checked in, but the kitchen was closed, so I unpacked, set up my computer and went to bed. I woke up at 8, feeling like I had slept all night and got to breakfast by 9.

I love Thai breakfast. Usually they have pretty much the same as what they would eat at any other meal it seems. My favorite thing is rice porridge with chicken or pork.

At the buffet here, they had porridge, but it was plain. I tried adding some things to it, but it wasn't as good as the rich porridge they make with pork or other flavorings. I also had some fried noodles with vegetables and chicken stir fried with basil. I looked at the other tourists eating eggs, croissants, and the typical breakfast stuff that does nothing for me.

I went on to have some fruit - papaya and pineapple, and then ordered some fried rice with pork. They made a mistake and brought me chicken. It wasn't that good, but I really could not complain about the choices they had laid out in the breakfast buffet.

I went from breakfast out for a walk. Usually by 9 a.m., Bangkok is sweltering, the air thick with humidity and the smells of food, exhaust fumes, camphor and eucalyptus and the clogged, polluted canals. But today, the air was fresh, not so humid and the temperature was mild by Bangkok standards.

I walked to a little foot massage place I usually go to. It used to be an open air seafood restaurant, but a few years back, the restaurant closed and they built a little shack for massage. The last time I was there, I was a little uncomfortable because they tried to get me to go upstairs for a full body massage and I felt there may have been a little hanky panky included, but for foot massages, this is a good place.

I asked for a foot massage and a pedicure. The woman who sat down and grabbed my feet asked me if I wanted a manicure. I said no, only a foot massage and pedicure. A few other women were walking around chattering and laughing. I assumed they were talking about me. I tried to pretend I understood Thai so they wouldn't get too carried away. In the end, I just laughed along with them.

As I drifted off into deep relaxation while my foot was poked, massaged and rubbed, I felt another pair of hands grab the other foot and begin my pedicure. Every time I opened my eyes, the woman doing the massage would ask if I wanted a manicure. I would say no, laugh and close my eyes again. Finally after about the 5th time I put my hands under the towel they had laid on my chest. We all laughed.

My massage and pedicure cost me about $12. After tipping, I spent about $18. It was worth so much more

I walked down Silom Rd and stopped in a Family Mart to get some water and a toothbrush (I forgot to pack one). From there I passed a little soi (a soi is like an alley) that I have passed many times. Vendors selling food, fruit and clothes spill out from the soi onto Silom Rd and around lunch time it gets really congested with office workers buying lunch and other goods. I decided to walk down the soi since it would lead me to my hotel.

It turned out to be quite a major market. Lots of women's clothing with bears and other animals, sparkles and other designs mixed in with vendors selling Thai food, sweets, and fruit. The smells were amazing and I may go back for lunch. I saw my favorite Thai desert, which is a mix of little jellies, and other things like water chestnuts, that are served in cold coconut milk with ice. It is super refreshing and really yummy. I got a little bag to go and continued walking through this amazing hidden world which I have passed so many times since my first trip here in 1991, but never ventured into.

I was thinking of how well I know Bangkok. I've been here at least 10 times, maybe close to 20. I have lost count. It is always a convenient jumping off point for other places in SE Asia - Cambodia, Laos, Burma, and now Bali, but in reality, I don't think I really know Bangkok. I know the shiny shopping centers and have been to most of the tourist sites, temples, etc., but I would love to be able to get a little off the beaten track and see some more of the real Bangkok like what I saw this morning.

Either way, knowing it only on the surface, or getting to know it better, Bangkok is a city that always feels welcoming, warm and a little bit like home.

My Favorite Things

2009-11-06T09:58:00.000-08:00

Well, part 1 of part 2 of my sabbatical has come to an end. I know scattered throughout my blog have been a lot of experiences, good and bad, and I know I've done a lot of complaining, but all in all, this has been an amazing trip and I would like to recap my favorite things.

First a few facts.

I started my travels on August 17, and return to SF on November 6. It's almost three months.

I have visited 5 different countries - The Netherlands, Spain, Italy, Morocco and Portugal (6 if you count the Vatican) and 23 different cities (well, 24 if you count the Vatican).

Here are my favorite things about each place I spent some time.

1. Amsterdam

This was THE place to start my trip. All of Europe seemed to be there with me. It was a great place to get acculturated with its laid-back, everything goes attitude.

Favorite place: the bike path that ran along the Amstel
Favorite food: stroopwafels! and Indonesian takeout
Favorite part of town: Chinatown
Best memory: riding a bike
Will miss: the nice apartment I had there
Best overall thing: the canals!

2. Haarlem

Favorite place: The main square
Favorite food: Ifrench fries with peanut sauce
Favorite part of town: The main square
Best memory: Having a beer and listening to jazz
Will miss: the laid-back feeling of summer in the Netherlands
Best overall thing: how easy it was to get there by train

3. Edam (bike ride from Amsterdam)

Favorite place: Monickendam, a town I passed along the way
Favorite food: the lunch I brought with me - cheese sandwich with good mustard and an apple
Favorite part of town: I somehow missed the town of Edam itself(I saw the dam on the river E), but the trip was great
Best memory: riding my bike through a cow pasture in the rain, riding on the dykes, the whole trip was an incredible memory
Will miss: the feeling of freedom I felt
Best overall thing: how easy it was to travel by bike

4. Gouda

Favorite place: The central square
Favorite food: Stroopwafel (even though I was a little disappointed, it was the reason I went to Gouda)
Favorite part of town: The area around the central square
Best memory: Searching for freshly made stroopwafels!
Will miss: Stroopwafels?
Best overall thing: Stroopwafels!

5. Sevilla

This was my introduction to Spain. Hot, dry, dusty, tapas, low-key, easy to navigate. Here is where I learned about the history of the Moorish conquest, the reconquest, religions living in peace and then the takeover, murders and expulsions. I learned about Juderias, Mudejar architecture and got a taste of the speldor of the Moorish empire.

Favorite place: The Alcazar, specifically the Moorish part
Favorite food: Spinach with garbanzos and carillada
Favorite part of town: Santa Cruz
Best memory: riding my bike along the Rio Guadalquivir at sunset and realizing "I'm in Spain!"
Will miss: fresh warm crunchy whole wheat rolls from the bakery and olives
Best overall thing: the overall lazy feeling of it all

6. Cadiz

Favorite place: View from a tower in the church
Favorite food: I wasn't crazy about anything I ate there
Favorite part of town: The pedestrian walkway running along the beach
Best memory: Taking my bike on the train and hopping on it when I arrived
Will miss: Being able to travel by train easily with a bike
Best overall thing: The contrast of the blue ocean with the old white town

7. Cordoba

Favorite place: La Mezquita
Favorite food: the tea and middle eastern pastries I had
Favorite part of town: the old town
Best memory: entering the Mezquita and finding I could escape the tourist crowds
Will miss: nothing
Best overall thing: the winding streets of the old town, and of course, the Mezquita

8. Granada

Favorite place: The Albaizyn (I know it's supposed to be the Alhambra, but the tourists ruined it for me - I had the Albaizyn to myself)
Favorite food: Churros and chocolate!
Favorite part of town: The Albaizyn
Best memory: Taking the little bus to the top of the hill in the Albaizyn and walking down with views of the Alhambra looming overhead
Will miss: those churros!
Best overall thing: Loved how the city was divided into two parts, the old Muslim section with the winding narrow streets and the newer part with wide streets laid out in a grid. It felt like traveling between two worlds.

9. Rome
Rome is everything you would expect. The joy for me came in finding the unexpected, like the best cannoli I ever had and prickley pear granita.

Favorite place: Trastevere
Favorite food: Um, all of it! Pizza, fried stuffed olives, pasta e fagiole, cannoli!, gelato! granita, stuffed zucchini flowers, pasta, etc., etc.,
Favorite part of town: Trastevere and the old Jewish ghetto
Best memory: Tour of the Synagogue and the ghetto
Will miss: the food
Best overall thing: the food

10. Ceuta

Entry to Morocco, Ceuta is the Spanish border town located in North Africa. Four cultures co-exist - Christian (Spanish), Muslim (Moroccan), Jewish and Hindu (Indian). It was a good place to hang for a bit before making the trip across the border for the full taste of Morocco.

Favorite place: a little coffee shop I found
Favorite food: Moroccan mint tea
Favorite part of town: I never found it
Best memory: sipping my mint tea and watching people
Will miss: that tea!
Best overall thing: the mix of cultures

11. M'Diq

This was just supposed to be where we spent the night, but because it was a long weekend, we spent more time in Ceuta and here in M'Diq. It was my introduction to Morocco, but also a lovely (slightly funky) little seaside resortish kind of place (at least trying to in a very sweet way)

Favorite place: the beach
Favorite food: that mint tea again
Favorite part of town: the pedestrian walkway along the beach
Best memory: watching Moroccans walking along the beach, the balloon man blowing up balloons to sell
Will miss: my room with a view of the beach
Best overall thing: the feeling of remoteness, newness, the whole mysterious, exotic feel of it all

12. Chefchaouen

Favorite place: The Medina
Favorite food: I ate tour group food
Favorite part of town: The Medina
Best memory: Watching the kids play while my tour group was being shown carpets (and I stood outside having the medina and the kids to myself)
Will miss: the sweetness and gentleness of the people I encountered
Best overall thing: the blue and white medina

13. Tangier

Favorite place: The coffee shops with rows and rows of men
Favorite food: mint tea again
Favorite part of town: the market
Best memory: breaking free from my tour group and going for a morning walk, having breakfast and watching kids go to school as Tangier woke up on a Monday morning
Will miss: nothing in particular
Best overall thing: the fact that this was a vibrant, active city with so much to see and experience (if I'd only had more time).

14. Tetuan

Favorite place: The Herb Shop
Favorite food: Pastries
Favorite part of town: Downtown
Best memory: Walking through the medina
Will miss: those pastries
Best overall thing: Tetuan was a vibrant university town with lots of young people walking around, with a backdrop of early 20th century buildings built in a mix of neo-classical, moorish and art deco styles. I would go back.

15. Toledo

Favorite place: The Synagogues
Favorite food: The food was sucky
Favorite part of town: The Juderia
Best memory: just wandering around
Will miss: being able to wander
Best overall thing: finally seeing the city that El Greco imprinted in my mind, though not the same as his painting, it was still impressive.

16. Madrid

Favorite place: The Reina Sofia Museum
Favorite food: my own cooking
Favorite part of town: Chueca
Best memory: seeing Guernica, laughing at Miro's playfulness
Will miss: the subways
Best overall thing: it was so easy to get around such a big city

17. Avila

Favorite place: The old Medieval Wall
Favorite food: none
Favorite part of town: the old city
Best memory: leaving?
Will miss: nothing
Best overall thing: I think perhaps I didn't stay long enough and didn't do my homework, because other than the wall, I wasn't that impressed

18. Salamanca

Favorite place: walking down the street in the photo - I felt like I was transported to another place and time
Favorite food: McDonalds was good
Favorite part of town: the old town
Best memory: the Portuguese women in the little tourist train who were having so much fun
Will miss: nothing in particular
Best overall thing: the beautiful ochre color of the sandstone buildings in the old town

19. Lisbon

Favorite place: I loved it all
Favorite food: porco a aletejano (pork with clams) and frango piri piri (piri piri chicken) - even though I didn't have the best, it was still good
Favorite part of town: was drawn to the old Moorish/Jewish neighborhoods where Fado was born and still lives, and Belem was lovely
Best memory: the woman in the bakery laughing as I tried to shoo a fly away from my face
Will miss: the charm, the sweetness of the place and the people
Best overall thing: I felt like I had discovered an open secret - I never realized how lovely Lisbon was.

20. Sintra

Favorite place: Dos Lagos (before I got thrown out)
Favorite food: the pao de chorizo y queijo (bread with chorizo and cheese) that I brought with me
Favorite part of town: the walk between the train station and the tourist information center
Best memory: arriving and walking a bit before I got on the bus
Will miss: the beauty of the place
Best overall thing: how picturesque and almost unreal the whole experience was

21. Segovia

Favorite place: The aqueduct
Favorite food: Chocolate
Favorite part of town: view from the top of the aqueduct
Best memory: Being interviewed by a group of middle school girls
Will miss: how easy it was to get there by train
Best overall thing: the combination of a beautiful fall day, an enormous 2,000 year old aqueduct and a Cinderella castle all perched on a little hill in the middle of the high meseta

22. Barcelona

Favorite place: La Sagrada Familia
Favorite food: Moroccan food from my neighborhood restaurant
Favorite part of town: El Raval, my neighborhood
Best memory: sitting in the train station with the old folks who hang out there all day
Will miss: the amazing public transportation system
Best overall thing: Gaudi and Miro

23. Zaragoza

Favorite place: La Seo (El Seo?)
Favorite food: The stuffed pepper I had (and the chocolate)
Favorite part of town: The plaza in front of the Virgen del Pilar Cathedral
Best memory: sneaking a photo of the pillar
Will miss: nothing
Best overall thing: no tour groups!

Zaragoza

2009-11-05T12:20:00.001-08:00

Well, it turns out that lovely mint tea I had last night with my delicious Moroccan food might have had caffeine (or as they say here, teine - it's not cafe, it's te). I didn't sleep at all last night. I was in a state of closed-eyed awakeness.

I got up this morning, thinking that I might not go to Zaragoza as planned. This was my last Spain-rail trip. I had six days of use in a two-month period and this was the 6th, but I felt like I had gotten my money's worth.

But then as morning came, I was still wide awake (boy that tea really does give you energy) and I got out of bed and sat here debating on whether or not to go. I thought about what I would do if I stayed in Barcelona - maybe walk through El Raval again, take some photos, search out some Catalan food (since I haven't had any yet). And then I thought about what that would involve. A lot of walking. Restaurant roulette. Running into tourists.

If I went to Zaragoza, I might find a hidden gem. It's a bit off the tourist track, on the pilgrim track because of the Virgen del Pilar (more on her later), and there was supposed to be a beautiful Islamic Palace that is up there with the Alhambra. I could visit something as beautiful as the Alhambra and not have to wait in lines or fight with other tourists to take pictures?

I decided to go.

I set off on the subway to Barcelona Sants station and boarded my train. I was riding tourist class, no first class today. It felt like it, but it was still comfortable. I forgot to bring my MP3 player, which I have found is essential. Two women behind me were talking incessantly and I was hoping to sleep. Eventually I plugged in the headphones supplied by the train and watched the movie, which was the Pilgrims, but not like those Thansgiving Pilgrims, it was a story about a group of people going on a Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostelo, following the trail of Santiago. Seemed like an appropriate movie. It was apparently French and dubbed in Spanish. I hate dubbed films. The voices are so bad. It made me fall asleep.

I arrived in Zaragoza to a very big train station. I went to the tourist information office where a woman was helpig another woman find streets on a map. I don't know why, but they were locating many streets. I wanted a map and to know if I could walk to the old town or if there was a bus. While I was waiting, I heard the TIC lady say you could take bus number 34. That was the information I needed. I knew I'd find more TICs downtown (because Lonely Planet told me I would), so I left, found the bus and headed downtown.

Sure enough, when I got off the bus was another tourist information center. I went in and got a map. She circled the old town (casco viejo), showed me where we were and pointed out some things I could visit. The Cathedral of the Virgin of Pilar, El Seo (another church). I headed out and immediately found myself in a huge plaza with a very big cathedral on one side and a smaller church at the far end. I kind of thought everything would be right there, but it turned out it was just these two things. Well, there was a museum, some kind of government building, a shopping arcade and a few other things.

For some reason why I got off the bus I suddenly felt like I was going to get dizzy and faint. Maybe my blood sugar was low for some reason. Maybe I was about to have an attack of meniere's from not sleeping? I didn't know. I popped a meclizine and after the tourist information center, looked for something to eat. Fortunately I found a place that served churros and chocolate. The chocolate was good. It hit the spot.

After that I went to the cathedral. There were a lot of school children being led in. The brainwashing had begun.

So, the Virgin of Pilar, who is the patron saint of Spain. Her feast day is October 12 and is a national holiday. She also has a church in Buenos Aires and many women from Spain and Argentina are named Pilar (maybe others too, but I have noticed from these two countries in particular). Pilar means pillar. The story is that the virgin appeared to St. James (maybe James, maybe another one) in about the 1st century A.D. on a pillar. The pillar is still in the church with a little statue of a virgin on it who has a big skirt below her. There is a little chapel. Behind the chapel is a little hole in the wall where the pillar is exposed. You can kiss it. The marble of the floor, the bench and the shelf that people lean on when they touch the pillar is all worn from hundreds, thousands, millions (?) of pilgrims leaning in to kiss the pillar. Pope John Paul kissed it (according to a sign there).

Ok, now if I wasn't aware of some of these other virgin myths, I would not be so skeptical, but it really seems to me that there is something fishy about all of these stories. But what amazes me is how fervently people believe them. If I told them I saw the virgin, they would think I was nuts, but why do they believe these stories that were told during times when Christians were doing their best to convert the "heathens" to their religion. The one thing all of these stories have in common is that the apparition was during a time when the local population was not Christian, and the apparitions were very successful in winning converts. Okay, call me a skeptic, but I am.

When I got there, there was a little mass going on in the chapel. It was a mass given by a recorded woman's voice. Very strange. An automated mass. People were praying along with this recording. I walked around and actually missed the pillar. The cathedral was huge but pretty unremarkable. Other than its size it really didn't have much going for it.

I walked around, visited a museum that I thought was the Islamic Palace, but it was some old building turned art museum. The paintings were interesting, but not what I came to see. I went to El Seo, which was a little more interesting that Pilar's church, lots of styles mixed together, and a variety of small side chapels all apparently done by differnet artists/architects. Then I looked at my map and the Palace I wanted to visit the Aljaferia or whatever it is called, was well outside of the old town. Drats.

I walked, and walked, thought about trying a bus or a taxi and instead walked. I was tired, it was cold and I had to pee. Finally I arrived. A guard greeted me at the entrance to the gardens and told me it was closed until 4 p.m. tomorrow. Double drats.

I headed back to the old town since my plan of hanging out in this palace, eating lunch nearby and walking to the train station which was very near where I was, had been blown by this news that the place was closed. It looked like there was some kind of conference going on.

Walking back, I began to think Zaragoza was a strange place. There was the bus driver who was not very friendly when I asked if he went to the old town, the tourist information women who were also kind of distant, and then the guy who was yelling at bike riders for riding on the sidewalk. He told me his vision was not bad and it was prohibited to ride bikes on the sidewalk. I thought he should chill out.

I stopped in a little taverny place for lunch. Had a stuffed pepper and a pork chop. It was good. They put a bottle of wine on my table. I wasn't sure if I could refill my glass. I didn't. I realized it was one of the few times I had eaten inside a restaurant in Spain (the others were in Toledo). People smoke inside. It was kind of disgusting, but the food was decent.

By now it was siesta and most shops were closed. I headed back to Pilar's cathedral. This time I actually saw the statuette from the front because there was no mass. I could see the pillar under the little dress she was wearing. I walked around and big gates had the rest of the church blocked off. That is when I noticed the pillar.

There was a little hole in the wall with a brass frame, and a little marble bench that you could kneel on when you leaned in to kiss the pillar. I touched it just to feel what it was like. It felt kind of greasy. I imagined the build up of years of oil from people's faces and wondered how sanitary it was. The marble on the bench and the floor was worn from so many people standing and kneeling there.

And that was it. I headed back to the bus which took me back to the station which took me back to Barcelona. My last trip was kind of a disappointment, although I do have kind of a morbid interest in these virgin apparition tales. I've thought about doing a book about all of the virgin stories. Just retelling them as they are told with a picture of the virgin. For those who believe them, they would be all in one place. For those who might be skeptical or who would want to point out the similarities, and thus the suspicious nature of them all, they would be there in one place and for those who wanted to use it as a kitchy coffee table conversation piece, it would serve that purpose too. It would be fun to research it, by going to all of these different places where these virgins (in their churches) exist. So far I have seen one in Costa Rica, Argentina, Mexico and now Spain. There must be hundreds. If there is actual truth to the stories, maybe on my travels and through my research, I would be converted to a believer.

The other thing my trip today did, which I only realized as it was ending, was that it allowed me to say I began with A and ended with Z. I started in Amsterdam and ended in Zaragoza (well, Barcelona really, but you get it, right?)

And there it is. My final day in Spain.

Dar-El-Tajin

2009-11-04T12:44:00.002-08:00

In the two plus months that I have been traveling, I've eaten a lot of meals. Some have been good, some okay, some not so good, and in general most eating out experiences have been mediocre to bad. Either I've had grumpy service, felt out of place being a lone diner in a busy place, or had someone blowing smoke in my face while I was eating. In general, the best meals I have had have been at home. Simple meals made with fresh local ingredients, my supreme culinary skills :) a good wine and nice music.

As luck would have it, I stumbled across the perfect place to finish the trip, this little Moroccan restaurant in my neighborhood called Dar-El-Tajin.

On the day I arrived, I got take-out from the Chinese place across the street because I had no idea where the supermarket was and I was really hungry. Little did I know that right next to it was this little gem of a place which has fed me incredible meals the past three days now, and will probably be where I have my last meal tomorrow.

On Monday I had lunch there. I ordered chicken tajin. A tajin is a kind of stew I guess, made in a special clay pot with a conical shaped lid. First I was served an appetizer of sauteed eggplant. The eggplant was chopped into small pieces and sauteed with onion, garlic, tomato and spiced. I got some warm, fresh, homemade pita along with it, and a small dish of lovely spiced olives. The chicken was tender and fell off the bones, and was gently spiced with hints of cinnamon, perhaps some garlic, cilantro and who knows what else. I was given the choice of fried potatoes or prunes in it, I got the prunes and they added a nice sweetness to the dish. I had two pots of mint tea with my lunch, one during, and one after. I just love the mint tea.

It was a very nice meal and only came to 9 euros. In Rome that would have been my total for a slice of pizza and a bottle of water.

Yesterday I went back, a little later, thinking I was too early for lunch on Monday, since the place was deserted and with such good food, how could it be?

The guys who served me on Monday were leaving and a slightly older (though younger than me) Moroccan guy took over. He seemed to be in charge.

He recommended the lamb tajin, but also said chicken cous cous. I was thinking I would try something different, not another tajin. He was very sweet and friendly. He offered me a salad with goat cheese to start. I was not sure if this was included or extra, but didn't care. He seemed very enthusiastic about it. The salad was huge and had a nice assortment of lettuce, walnuts, pine nuts, and was drizzled with orange flavored honey. I also had a basket of freshly baked, still quite warm (hot) pita.

The chicken cous cous was good, but I think I was full from the salad. It was too much food for me to eat. When he offered me desert, I told him I was too full. "Maybe tomorrow" I said.

The bill was only 7.50 euros. He said something about it being cheap. I told him it was very cheap and asked why. He said they wanted to encourage customers. This was my kind of place. Good food, nice service and cheap! I think perhaps there was a change of management or something. I asked if the restaurant was new and he said "socios" which I think is partner. So something changed recently, but I am not sure what.

I had planned to go there today for lunch but I ended up eating at Burger King (I know, I know, how could I?) I was hungry and thought I'd just have a small burger, but there were no small burgers, so I had a double cheeseburger with bacon. It was actually good. I thought I'd walk it off exploring, but didn't like being around all of the smoking tourists, jugglers, street musicians and general chaos of the Rambla, so I headed through El Raval to explore and before I knew it, I was back in my neighborhood. My oncoming cold encouraged me to come home and rest. By the time I started feeling hungry again it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner.

So at about 8 p.m. I decided to walk past Dar-El-Tajin and see what the situation looked like. The nice possible owner was working and two men were sitting drinking tea. Another guy who seems to hang out there a lot was sitting playing with the remote. I walked past, thinking I'd walk a little first, but then decided I just wanted to eat and went back.

The waiter came over and shook my hand and asked me how I was doing. He gave me a big smile and seemed very happy to see me again. This was the first time in all of my time here that I felt like someone recognized me and actually greeted me in a human, friendly way. No "diga" (speak), no feeling like I was interrupting his break, he was genuinely happy to have a customer. The way it should be.

He asked if I wanted the menu or if I wanted him to recommend something. I was thinking and he went and got the menu. When he came back, I asked what he recommended. First he recommended kebabs (pinchos). I remembered the dried out chicken kebab I had in Seville and kind of winced. He went on to mention a few other things and finally said "tajin de gambas" - shrimp tajin. I was thinking of trying the lamb, but shrimp sounded good.

He asked if I wanted a salad, I hesitated, he said "una sopita?" a little soup, I said, yes, soup. I really wanted soup.

He came back with the little dish of olives and my tea. The tea is served very cerimoniously. It comes out in this fancy little tray. A little silver pot and a glass with gold and other colors painted on it. The waiter puts it down, picks up the teapot and raises it up high, allowing the tea to stream down.

This time, he poured the tea in the glass, then opened the pot and poured it back in. Then he poured it out one more time. He told me they always do it that way. First once, then a second time.

I asked him if it was just mint. He said it was mint and other herbs. He came back with some dried herbs in his hand. He said they are very good for you and grabbed his chest.

Next came the soup. It was a tomatoey broth with some little white and brown things floating in it. Alongside came a plate with two halves of a lemon and some dates. I asked if I put them in the soup, meaning the dates, and he nodded.

I squeezed a little lemon in the soup and threw in a couple of dates. I wasn't sure about that but they were good in the soup. The soup was incredible. A wonderful mix of flavors and textures. There were some crunchy things, maybe dried lentils, garbanzos, pieces of egg, possibly some chicken. I don't know what was in it, but I savored every bite. I actually for the first time I can remember, ate slowly and mindfully because it was so good. This was not something to be rushed. It came with a basket of bread, this time it seemed to be made from corn. It had a rough texture and the taste of freshly milled corn. It was wonderful dipped in the soup.

When he came back and asked how it was, I told him it was very good. I asked what it was. He told me the name in Morocco. He said it was a soup they ate before Ramadan. It felt very special to me. If I go back tomorrow, I might ask for it again.

Then came the tajin with shrimp. The little conical hat did not come out with the dish, only the clay bottom. It seemed like not a lot of food, which was good. The shrimp were medium to small and they were swimming about in a bubbling tomato sauce with specks of herbs. It was wonderful. I wanted to wipe the plate clean with the bread, but was careful not to soak up the oil which had conveniently separated from the tomato sauce.

I was really enjoying the meal and felt really bad that there were no other customers. People would come and look in the window, read the menu and move on. I wanted to signal to them to come in, it was good!

I think perhaps the owner needs to think about what kind of restaurant he wants to have. Either it will be a local hangout for the neighborhod Arab men, kind of like the cafes I saw in Tangier where the men sit smoking and staring at a TV screen, or it will be a successful busy restaurant.

I think he needs to get his friends to sit outside or something because I think for some people, especially women, it is intimidating to enter a restaurant with all men, especially Arab men who are smoking. I felt they kind of added to the atmosphere, but I was imagining what the place would be like without them, perhaps some nice music, lights dimmed a little, candles, and the beautiful colored light from the lanterns reflecting on the walls. With such great, cheap food and attentive service, it really is a shame they don't do more business.

After my table was cleared, the waiter brought me two pieces of pineapple, cut in chunks in the skin and sprinkled with something that was kind of like brown sugar and wheat germ. I am not sure what it was, but it was a really nice way to finish a perfect meal. The bill today was 10.50 euros. Well worth it!

So, if you are ever in Barcelona and would like to check out the neighborhood of Sant Antoni and are looking for a wonderful place to eat, I highly recommend Dar-El-Tajin. It is located on Carrer de Parlament - two blocks from Poble Sec station, right past the corner of Carrer de Viladomat. I am hoping more people will find out about it and business will pick up.

Sant Antoni

2009-11-04T06:03:00.000-08:00

This morning after checking my e-mail I decided to look at the Feel Barcelona website to see if they had promised internet. Even though I doubted they would have listed it, I wanted to be sure. Instead, to my surprise I found the reason why I thought I was staying in L'Eixample. They told me I was!

There was no mention of internet, but right up there next to the name of the apartment it said in bold letters - L'Eixample.

So I was not crazy after all.

From what I could tell on the map, L'Eixample was on the other side of the old city, up there with La Sagrada Familia (I thought I'd be passing it every day), and here I was down in the ghetto with all of these immigrants. How did this happen?

I wrote to Feel Barcelona, totally expecting to get an unsatisfactory response, but I said maybe it was an error on their website that they need to correct, because I was after all, in El Raval - a neighborhood with quite a seedy rep.

Last night I dreamed of the Barri Gotic, Ciutat Vella, the old city. Today I had nothing else planned, so I decided to go and check it out.

I looked at my subway map to see how I would get there. Instead, I decided to walk, so I could explore some of the streets of El Raval in what looks to be an older section than where I am living.

I headed from the area I live with wide streets and big open spaces into this older, more run down part with narrow streets and laundry hanging everywhere. Signs in Arabic, Pakistani and other languages were mixed in with Catalan and the population was very diverse - pretty much what I have seen here in my neighborhood but more of them it seemed. It felt like I had stepped into a different world.

I passed lots of interesting looking shops, cafes, restaurants. I passed several Arab butchers, and finally as I passed one and noticed it said "Carniceria", which means butchershop, I went in.

Why?

On the way back from Morocco on the ferry I was sitting alone in an area with a little table and four seats. A pregnant Moroccan woman asked if she could sit with me. After she finished eating a very delicious looking sandwich, I asked her if I could ask a question. I wanted to know about something in my Moroccan cookbook called oil of orange flower (aceite de flor de naranja). In Granada I had some really yummy lemonade with mint. The table of Americans sitting next to me asked the waiter what was in it. He said, "mint, lemons, sugar and orange flower oil". The Americans did not know what that was. They deconstructed it while he was there, and when he got bored with their conversation, after he left. Was it orange rind? Was it orange extract? It was what he said it was. Orange flower oil.

In Tetuan when we went to the herb shop we had a little demonstration, kind of like a tuperware demonstration. They showed us all of the things they were offering. Something for people who snore (I got it but don't know what to do with it). Saffron. Something for asthma. And then orange flower oil with jasmine. It was good for stress. I got some.

After our demonstration when we were paying for our purchases, I asked the guy about oil of orange flower. He said it was the same thing. I said, "but this has jasmine". He assured me, "my friend, trust me, you can use this".

When people say, "trust me" I become suspicious.

So I asked this woman on the ferry where I could buy it. First she told me it wasn't an oil. Okay, "essence" I said. Then matter-of-factly, she said, "in a carniceria".

I was surprised. Orange flower oil in a butchershop? Why would that be. I thanked her and that was that.

So today when I walked past the carniceria I decided to take a peek. I walked past the meat that was being cut up, all red and bloody, to a shelf that had a few items on it - not many. I was hoping no one would ask if they could help me because I was not sure if "aceite de flor de naranja" (orange flower oil) was the right name. I looked at the shelf, and there, right in front of my eyes was a bottle that said, "Aroma de Azahar". I remembered seeing "azahar" when I tried looking orange flower oil on the internet. Under that, it says, "Arome fleur d'orange". This was it.

The bottle is quite large, not like an extract bottle, and it looks quite liquidy, like water. But I am pretty sure this is the stuff.

What I am I going to do with it? I will try to make some of the deserts in my cookbook, maybe add to lemonade with mint as I try to recreate what I had in Granada and then it will sit in my cabinet until I eventually throw it away on a cleaning spree. It is one more thing for me to carry home (thus a few more articles of clothing will be left behind).

I continued walking and came to the Rambla. A large pedestrian street that I read Barcelonans don't even bother to go to because it is a pickpocket haven and is only for tourists. I guess it's kind of like Fisherman's Wharf. I crossed over the Rambla which was very crowded, even though it was still kind of early, and entered the Gothic quarter.

It looked like other cities I have been to, Toledo, Granada, Seville, Avila, that had old Gothic/medieval parts. Only this Gothic quarter was filled with all kinds of shops - jewelry, clothes, shoes, smoothies, cafes, restaurants. It was one of those old towns that was thriving because of tourism and it was evident in the shops and the people. When I enter a Gothic quarter, I expect to see a cobbler making shoes, a blacksmith, a tailor, a baker, but this looked like a modern city set up within old buildings and streets.

I walked a little unsure of which way to go and eventually came across the cathedral. I wandered inside, thinking maybe I'd pick up a set of rosary beads for my mom. I didn't like the selection. The cathedral had a central area with geese. I've never seen geese in a cathedral before. The were noisy and smelly.

I entered the main part of the church, took a few pictures and left. It was like all of the other cathedrals I've been to, maybe not as impressive as many of them.

And so I wandered until I found Starbucks, where I used the restroom and had a nice cup of mint tea sitting on a comfortable chair in the big window watching people walking by. Three young people were standing in the middle of the pedestrian street trying to snag people who walked by. I am guessing to ask them to make a donation. I've read that those are often scams and sometimes covers for pickpockets. I dreaded having to walk past them.

After my tea, I walked a little more, came back to the Rambla and continued to walk towards home. It was immediately apparent when I was out of the Gothic quarter and back in the Rambla. Only this part of the Rambla was very trendy, much more than my neighborhood which is more residential.

I enjoyed my walk back. It was 2 p.m. and school was letting out. Hundreds of little immigrant children were running around, being picked up by parents, screaming, yelling and playing. It was quite the scene. I passed more ethnic restuaurants and shops and eventually was back at Mercat de Sant Antoni. The narrow streets gave way to broader tree-lined streets.

I checked my e-mail and there was a message from the supervisor of Feel Barcelona. He assured me that according to the postal codes, I am in L'Eixample. I looked again at the map. El Raval was to the west of the old city, L'Eixample was to the north. I wrote him back and told him I knew how to read a map and he really should change his website because it was false advertising.

Then I read one of the links he sent me. I guess I should have done that first. Turns out L'Eixample is quite a large area and is an extension of the city. Where Ciutat Vella/Barri Gotic and El Raval are old parts of the city going back to medieval times, L'Eixample is part of the 19th century expansion. While I am very close to El Raval, I am in fact in L'Eixample, and more specifically, Sant Antoni.

Okay, that explains it all. Now I understand why the people here look like what I've read about El Raval, but the streets don't quite fit the image. I'm in sort of a crossroads here.

And, after walking around through the tourist trap of the old city, and walking back through what is said to be one of the most diverse neighborhoods in Europe (El Raval), I'm actually very glad I ended up where I ended up. While there might not be trendy shops and cafes, there is a good Moroccan restaurant on the corner and I can buy essence of orange flower oil at the butcher shop.

Orange, Miro and Gaudi

2009-11-03T14:25:00.001-08:00

So yesterday I bought this prepaid modem from Orange. "Internet Everywhere" it is called. The barky woman who sold it to me told me I had one day's service included. After that I would have to recharge it. She mentioned a list of possible recharging options but since she sounded like a machine gun out of control, I didn't quite get what they were. What I did understand was I could do it on the internet (actually maybe I understood that because I read it when I got home).

Well, I connected yesterday and immediately started to look at how I could recharge my account. I wanted to add enough time so that I would have uninterrupted service until I leave. I went to http://orange.es like the box said, but it was not at all clear how to recharge.

I thought maybe when my time ran out I would get a message telling me I needed to recharge. I was online after midnight last night, my internet did not stop working and I didn't get a message. Maybe in the morning? Nope.

So when I got up this morning, all set to do my favorite routine of eating breakfast in front of the computer while waking up, I logged on and found I had no connection.

Drats!

So, I threw on some clothes and went to a pay phone and dialed 1414, like the box said. I told the lady I wanted to recharge my internet prepago. She transferred me.

The new woman asked how I wanted to do it. I told her with credit card. She asked for the name of the bank. I told her Chase. She said, "huh?" or whatever the equivalent would be in Spanish. She then told me I could not use a foreign credit card. I told her I was a foreigner.

She suggested I go to an ATM and recharge it there with my credit card. Any ATM? I asked. Any ATM she answered.

I went to an ATM and inserted my credit card. I did not see any option for recharging anything. I got my card and left. Crossed the street to BBVA a fairly large bank chain. Surely they would have this function.

They did. I inserted my "telephone number" - the number I have that looks like a phone number but isn't. I got a message I didn't understand, but I knew it wasn't good. I got my card and went back to the phone. I dialed 1414, spoke to one woman, then another. I explained to the recharging lady why I needed to be connected (to stay in touch with my family and get news about my dad), she was sympathetic and said that even though it probably would not accept it, she would try my credit card.

It was not accepted.

She suggested a list of places I could go - ATM, gas station, Orange Store (with the barky lady) and some other options I didn't get.

I decided to try the ATM again because she assured me it would work.

This time after entering my "telephone number" I understood the message - it was asking me to enter it again. I did.

Suddenly my card was spit out and I got a message that the transaction failed.

Okay, so much for that.

I was walking towards home and came to a gas station. I went in, asked if I could recharge my internet there. The woman said I could. I told her the amount, gave her the number, gave her the money, and was done.

It was easy. Well, sort of.

And so I was connected all day. Until just a few minutes ago when I was sending an e-mail and my connection dropped. I don't know why. I was already in my pajamas. I had to put on pants, go down the three long flights of stairs, walk to Avenida Paral.lel, find a phone and dial 1414.

I explained the problem, entered my number, waited, and was told I was connected. I said I was not. She insisted I was connected and if not the problem was the ordenador. What is the ordenador? I asked. I didn't understand the answer. I thought maybe I needed to shut down and restart my computer.

And so I did, and now I am connected. Only a few more days of this mess.

So after getting connected this morning, eating breakfast and all, I went to Montjuic to the Miro Foundation.

It was a nice trip. I took the subway one stop and then a public bus up the mountain. It was so easy. My 10-trip ticket I bought for the subway also works for the bus! Very cool.

The museum was great. I love Miro. I think he is kind of a prankster. I had a feeling that some of his paintings were trying to convey something, but I wasn't sure what. It was like some secret language waiting to be decoded. I was staring at one painting for a while, it was very mysterious. A big golden sphere with two black dots and a squiggly line with some splatters of paint all making for a very interesting composition, great color contrast, lots going on. I stood and tried to get the painting to speak to me. What was it saying? Finally, I looked at the wall tag. Two planets chasing a hair - was the title. I looked, and there they were - the two black dots planets and that black squiggly line the hair.

I didn't stay long because I was feeling like I was catching a cold. As I left I saw a sign for the funicular. I thought I would take a different route home, thinking the funicular was a cable car type thing.

It turned out it was just a train that goes up and down the mountain. Kind of like what I saw in Lisbon. I went down, got off at the one stop and found I was on my line (line 3).

I knew my line went to Parc Guell, the other Gaudi creation I wanted to check out. So I made the transfer and went to Lesseps station.

The park was nice, very high up on hill with a great view. It was too crowded to enjoy though, and the tourists that were there were acting like animals in a zoo - whooping and hollering and screeching and whistling and running and jumping around. I came in through one entrance at the highest point and made my way down to the lower part of the park. Snapped some photos and left.

It was a nice visit, but unfortunately, I didn't enjoy the crowds.

I returned home and went to my neighborhood Moroccan restaurantfor lunch. This time I got cous cous and was given a great salad as a starter - a nice assortment of lettuce, fresh goat cheese, walnuts, pine nuts and honey. It was enough to be a lunch in itself. I could not finish all of the cous cous. I had a mint tea too.

I will go back tomorrow one more time. I've had enough Spanish food and am tired of playing food roulette, never knowing if I will get a good meal or not. I like eating lunch out and dinner in (since I prefer to eat dinner at a "normal" time and not right before bed).

And that was my day. I walked around my neighborhood a little and explored, and have since been hanging out, listening to music, eating, etc.

I feel like I did and saw enough today and really like the feeling of living in Barcelona, getting to know my neighborhood and just enjoying this nice apartment.

Now, hopefully my Orange Internet Everywhere will work when I start up my computer tomorrow.

Today's Mission

2009-11-02T13:20:00.001-08:00

Today I had a mission. I like having missions. As stressful as it was to complete the mission, I got to know my neighborhood a little better and ended up with a story to tell.

My mission was to find a way to connect to the internet. An old classmate from High School who lived in Barcelona responded to my predicament after I posted it on Facebook. She told me to go to a phone store and buy a card that would connect me.

The other day when I went to my local Locutori, I asked the Pakistani guy working there if he knew what I could do. He said go to Orange, a phone shop up the street and they sold a USB thing that I could use. A Pakistani woman who was at the counter, confirmed this. He told me to go on Monday. This was Saturday. I knew it was because everything was closed until today.

So yesterday I dealt with my lack of internet by going to Locutori and the train station. Even this morning I went to a Locutori to kill time because I was out before the stores opened. It was another horrible experience with a guy in a cabin talking on the phone with the door open. He left his cell phone and fanny pack on a desk next to a computer and while he was on the phone in the cabin his cell phone started ringing. He was talking very loudly and saying things like, "I know, look, look, listen to me, look, look..." over and over again. It was really irritating. It seems that people in Locutori don't understand the reason they have a door on their cabin.

Anyway, after killing some time there, I went to Orange, but they were still closed. On the way I passed Vodofone, another phone store. There was a little group of people, mostly older Spaniards with a few immigrant-types mixed in, waiting in front of the half-opened gate. I knew Vodofone was soon to open, so I sat on a railing and waited. I knew I had a long explanation to make in Spanish and wanted to wait for the place to clear out before I went in and "performed".

I thought they were having some type of sale and expected the line to continue to flow, but in fact after the first group of people went in, only a few more people straggled in. I walked in and looked and saw that they did indeed have this USB internet thing. It looked really expensive 175 Euros - much more than I wanted to spend.

I walked out and walked back to Orange. It was still shuttered.

Back to Vodofone I returned. The crowd had thinned. There were two women working - one helping customers, the other on a computer. Even though they both helped customers at different points, one was always on the computer, so the line moved slowly.

Finally my turn came. The woman said, "digame caballero". She had just been saying "digame" to everyone else. I appreciated this little extra bit of respect (?)

I explained that I was here until Friday. I was renting an apartment but didn't have internet and wanted some way to connect my laptop to the internet.

She said they had USB modems for internet. She quoted me a price. It wasn't 175 euros, but more like 49 or something. I asked if there were something cheaper. She mentioned something maybe around 29 euros. She spoke really fast and I had a hard time understanding what she was saying. Even when I asked her to repeat, she would repeat really fast and not alter what she was saying for me.

We finally established (somehow) that I needed a "modem prepago" - prepaid modem, because I was not a resident. She arrived at this conclusion when she asked me for my DNI (National Identity Document) and I told her I didn't have one. She then asked for my passport and I told her it was in my apartment but I had a copy. Then she said I needed a modem prepago.

She was very kind in spite of her rapid Spanish. She wrote down an address for me and sent me walking straight ahead up Ronda Sant Antoni. I was liking this mission.

I walked up Sant Antoni and saw that the old Market Place which I had seen from afar the past few days, and from up close this morning, was now located along this pedestrian street. I could see inside and saw some fruit and vegetable stands and some clothing. I made a plan to come back and explore the market at some point, but right now I was on a mission.

I walked and walked and walked. I was looking for number 82. It was several blocks. Finally I arrived. It was another Vodofone store.

I took a number and waited. It was very hot inside.

Finally my turn came. I asked for a modem prepago. The girl asked me for my DNI. I told her I didn't have a DNI. She asked for my passport. I told her I had a copy. She told me she needed the original.

I was pissed. Why did this woman who knew I didn't have my passport on me send me to another store of the same company without mentioning I needed my passport? My apartment was in the other direction.

So I left, walking back alongside the market, past the first Vodofone and past Orange, which was now open.

I went inside and saw they had prepaid modems. There was one woman working in this tiny store and quite a line of people waiting. I wanted to ask if I needed my passport, but she was on the phone while all of these people waited. I figured I would come home, get my passport and return to Orange. If they didn't have what I needed, at least I was prepared for Vodofone.

So I came home, climed the 75 stairs to my apartment (I counted them last night), got my passport and went back. The woman in Orange still had a line. It was hot and her door creaked really loudly every time someone came in. It was not a fun place to be waiting.

Like in Vodofone, much of her business was people who had problems with their cell phones. Some didn't know how to work them, one old guy needed his battery recharged. Some people were picking up phones. Few were actually buying anything new though, most only had questions.

At one point she looked around the store and asked everyone what they wanted. My turn came. I said, "quiero un modem prepago" - she pointed to some cell phones. I went to say, "mobile no" thinking she had misunderstood mobile for modem (mobile is what they call cell phones), but my second had passed. She was on to helping other people.

So I stood there next to the cell phones I didn't want and waited for my next turn. She continued helping several people, the door kept creaking as more people came in with more questions and it became more and more hectic. She looked at me and said, "diga", but the woman next to me spoke.

More time passed, more people, more creaking, my turn again, "diga" - I don't want a mobile, I want a modem, I told her, then the woman next to me stole the ball again with a question. I lost my turn.

I was getting so frustrated. I was so close, yet so far.....

Finally, she asked me a question about the modem, I answered it, she told me it was 49 euros - that was the same as Vodofone. I pulled out a 50 euro note, ready to pay and get out. She had moved on. I had to wait my turn.

She was kind of like a lighthouse turning very slowly around the room. Her glance would reach you and you'd have a second to get in what you needed and hold her attention for maybe a minute or so before she moved on. I wasn't fast or aggressive enough to get even my minute.

Eventually she did help me. She took my passport, made two copies. Got the modem, entered all of my information in her computer (it seems that getting a gun in the US is easier than buying a phone or modem here) and then asked me if I knew how it worked.

Woman next to me asks another question. My turn lost.

Eventually I did get out of there with my prepaid modem. I wasn't exactly sure how it worked because the explanation was so fast, I missed most of it, but I thought once I plugged it in, instructions would come up and I could read more easily than I could understand fast Catalan Spanish.

And so now I am connected with this little device that I paid 49 euros for four days. Plus, tomorrow and every day after, I have to recharge it (I am still not sure how I will do that) for about 4 euros each day. But it is worth it. No more locutoris with loud people in cabins with their doors open, people who smell like smoke, guys looking at porn at the computer next to me, and the lack of privacy and security that comes with a public computer.

Mission accomplished!

My Neighborhood

2009-11-02T12:55:00.001-08:00

I thought I was going to be staying in L'Eixample, in a very luxurious two-bedroom apartment at a very reasonable price. What was I thinking?

Okay, so I am in an area called El Raval. I thought I was maybe in Poble Sec, which Lonely Planet says nice things about, but it turns out Poble Sec, while it is the nearest subway stop, as a neighborhood, is on the other side of Avenida Paral.lel. El Raval is the old tenement, slum area of Barcelona where sickness and squalor reigned during the industrial revolution and until recently, prostitution, drugs, and crime were its most well-know characteristics.

Now I understand why this very nice two-bedroom apartment is 1/3 of what I paid in Amsterdam.

But to be honest, the neighborhood has been the one thing about Barcelona that I liked almost immediately. My street is a quiet, tree-lined residential street. There are people from all over around here - Indians and Pakistanis, Arabs, Africans Philipinos, Chinese, Latinos (from Latin America) and of course Spaniards (I've seen some Americans too). It wasn't until today that I got the true flavor of the neighborhood. When I arrived on Saturday it was siesta, so everything was closed, maybe for the weekend. Of course yesterday it was very quiet as most stores are closed on Sunday, but today it came to life.

I discovered a great market nearby and also a really nice little Moroccan restaurant next to the Chinese Restaurant I went to the other day.

I love walking around and seeing people dressed in colorful traditional clothing, whether it's women in saaris (or the pajama type things that I can't think of the name of right now), wearing veils, speaking different languages and even Spanish as a Second Language. I find it more comfortable to communicate with people who are speaking Spanish not as their native language. They are more patient, easier to understand, they speak more slowly and they are kinder.

I found a link with some information about El Raval. It seems there is a lot to explore. I have a few days to get to know this part of Barcelona that is off the beaten path. And maybe that is the thing I love the most about it - there are so few other tourists. I feel like I have this little gem all to myself!

Complications

2009-11-01T12:50:00.000-08:00

Today was quite a complicated day and it is amazing how quickly things have changed for me.

I started off with the best laid plans, and we all know what they say about those.
I walked to Placa Espanya and hopped on the open air sightseeing bus. I decided to buy a one-day ticket instead of a two-day because it seemed that all I really needed was an orientation. Unlike in Lisbon, I can speak the language here (well, sort of) and I can get around by subway. I don’t need a tour bus to take me everywhere. It was a good decision.

The bus I took had two routes – the east route and the west route. I was on the west route, which didn’t seem that interesting. My plan was to change to the east route when the two routes intersected, do that tour and then continue where I left off on the west route, taking me back to where I started. And that is pretty much what I did.

What I discovered was that Barcelona really was not that interesting to me. Maybe it was the weather – it was kind of gray and overcast, humid (or damp depending on how you look at it) and just not a nice day for sightseeing. Plus, we spent a lot of time just sitting. Sights were few and far between and most of them were not really that interesting – an aquarium, a soccer stadium, Olympic Park. The things I really wanted to see were the Gaudi buildings. We passed a few other interesting sights I would not have seen had I not taken the tour, so in the end it was worth it, but a day was enough.

I got off at La Peredra, otherwise known as Casa Mila, an apartment building that Gaudi built that looks like a big rock (or quarry). I really needed to pee badly, and I was cold from riding on the top of the bus in the damp weather, so I headed to Starbucks and got a hot chocolate and used the restroom. After that I was going to visit La Peredra, but decided instead to go to Casa Batlo, another apartment building that Gaudi was involved in (I don’t think he built it from scratch himself). It was more colorful and I thought would be more interesting.
I wasn’t sure if I would go in or not, it all depended on whether or not there was a line. There was no line, so I went in.

The ticket was a whopping 16 euros and came with an audio guide which I did not want. The audio guides were really irritating because now, instead of having other tourists simply getting in the way or posing in front of things to have their pictures taken, now they were walking around with these stupid audio guides on their ears like they were talking on cell phones.

The building was interesting, but I was too irritated by the other tourists to really enjoy it. I am a very bad tourist.

From there I walked back to Placa Catalunya and got on the bus to continue the west route. To my surprise, we went up Montjuic – “Jewish Mountain” – something I was thinking about doing later this week. I’m glad we did because the Joan Miro foundation is located on the mountain along with another museum and some nice views. It definitely made me want to put it on my itinerary. I figure if nothing else, I will focus my visit to Barcelona on Gaudi and Miro. I’ve seen enough churches and medieval cities and been to enough Spanish restaurants, but can you really get enough Gaudi or Miro? Plus, maybe the Miro museum will not be too crowded since it’s kind of out of the way. There is a little open air tour bus that goes up and down the mountain. I will do that maybe on Tuesday.

Once I was finished my sightseeing, I headed home, but stopped in a Locutori (they are not locutorios here) to check my e-mail. I wanted to see if there was any word about my father. I got conflicting reports. One said he was doing well and had a good night, the other said he was not doing well and was being moved to another hospital (the one I was born in). Locutoris have computers and phone booths. Many people go there to call home. A Russian woman was making a very loud phone call with the door to her booth open. It was hard for me to concentrate. I got up and closed her door a little, but it didn’t help. I really miss having my own internet.
I continued walking a bit past my street to explore my neighborhood and ended up getting lost. When I finally did find my way home, I was feeling irritated and agitated.

I have no internet and the TV doesn’t work. I left all books I had to read behind as a way to lighten my load, so there was nothing for me to do but cook.

This apartment ranks up there with Amsterdam in terms of the luxury of the place and a good kitchen. I sautéed some spinach with garlic, roasted some peppers and made a salad with some other peppers. As I was sautéing the spinach, I was thinking about my Dad and decided I needed to go home and see him.

I also remembered that they have free wireless in the train station and I discovered today from my metro map (that I got before getting on the tourist bus) that it was only 3 stops on the subway from here.

So, before eating, I packed up my laptop and headed to the train station. The subway was hot and not as nice as Madrid, but the ride was quick.

I sat in the same place I sat yesterday and to my surprise the same old people that were there yesterday yelling across the floor to each other were still there. There were so many of them. I wonder if they just go there and hang out. It was nice and cool. I am so irritable though, so you can guess how I felt about them shouting at each other while I was checking my e-mail to get news about my Dad.

I sent off a few e-mails letting folks know I was planning on trying to visit NJ. I checked flights from San Francisco. There were some available and I could use miles to book them. Then I came home and made a little pasta with cheese and pepper.
Dinner was good. Simple, but healthy. While I was eating I was thinking about why I would want to stay here until November 10 (because I had a reservation) and why I would want to leave early (because I am not enjoying myself and I am worried about my Dad). So after eating, I went to my local locutori and tried calling Luftansa to change my reservation. I got a local number and on the internet it said their office was open until 10:00 p.m. It was only 9. I tried calling several times and got some weird recording, but that was it, no one answered, and the message kept repeating.

Then I tried calling the 1-800 number I had. It didn’t work from the locutori. I asked the guy working there how I could dial it. He told me to try a phone booth.
I went outside and tried the phone booth. No luck. I tried calling the number they had for international assistance but got a busy signal. I tried dialing zero for an operator, no luck. I tried inserting my credit card. Nothing. I moved to another phone – no good. I was standing on a dark and deserted street and it didn’t feel good.

I walked to Avenida Paral.lel to see if I could find another Locutori. On the way, I decided to try another phone. Same thing. I tried all of the possibilities, and nothing was working. I called a number for Telefonica assistance. They did answer. I told them what I was trying to do. They gave me the number for international assistance. I told them no one was answering. They told me to try again. I did. Busy signal. I was feeling super frustrated.

I called Telefonica assistance again and told them no one was answering the other number – it was busy. They told me to keep trying. Someone would pick up. No one did.

Frustrated, I went up the street to a new Locutori. I remembered skype, my savior so many times before. I asked if I could make a call on a computer with skype. Turned out I could. And I did. I contacted Luftansa and got my return changed to this Friday. It will give me a few days to sort through things and pack, and I can still make my trip to Zaragoza this Thursday. Then I will be done with Barcelona. I’ll go to Montjuic on Tuesday. Maybe tomorrow La Sagrada Familia. I might visit some other sights, I might not. It will all depend on how I feel.

So, today I made some major changes in my plans. My big birthday bash for my 50th birthday that was also supposed to be a benefit for Partners in Health, I canceled. I changed my return flight to SF and I booked a flight to NJ to be with my family for a week. I am only hoping that my visit will be to see my father recovering and returning from the hospital. One of my worst fears that I had when planning this sabbatical trip came true, that I would have to return to NJ unexpectedly. At least for now, the trip is voluntary and it is to see my father while he is still alive, but having aging parents makes it really difficult to be so far from my family. I never know when I am going to have to travel back there unexpectedly. I am just hoping that when I am in Bali, everything at home will be okay.

Baaarthelona

2009-10-31T12:43:00.000-07:00

Ugh. Maybe I am just getting tired of moving from one place to another, or maybe I expect more from people in terms of service and friendliness, but I have to say, my introduction to Barcelona was not pleasant.

Getting here was fine. I took the subway from Plaza del Angel (my apartment) in Madrid. No problem. My backpack was a little heavy (I am not sure why, since I now have this extra bag and have unloaded several items of clothing along the way), but I managed, carrying it down the stairs to the platform. Once I arrived at Puerta de Atocha Station, the main train station, I took an elevator to the departures floor.
I was very early, but I was all packed up and ready to go by 9 this morning and thought it would be better to leave early before the rest of the city started waking up if I was going to take the subway to the train station. I stalled a little, but arrived at the station by 10.

I noticed signs pointing to the memorial for the victims of the Madrid train bombing 3-11, and went to look at it. It was a medium-sized room painted blue with a hole in the ceiling. Inside the hole in a kind of circular form, was plexiglass or something with words calling for peace in many different languages. I think there might be something visible from the ground, this was just the view from below, but I am not sure (google it). There were a few other women there and we were all watched over by a security guard. Security was very tight. We had to enter an entrance and could not enter the room until the door to the entrance was closed. Weird.
I went through the security check and sat in the waiting area for the departures. At around 11, they started boarding my train.

I was traveling first class, as I did from Seville. Since I had a train pass it was not that expensive to go first class. It was worth it.

I was a bit disturbed when a whole girl’s sport team boarded our car. They were, as you can imagine, pretty noisy. But I was prepared with my MP3 player, which drowned out all of their noise and the noise of everyone else who may have been talking. It made for a very pleasant ride.

After we passed Zaragoza, they served me lunch. It was decent. A salad, pasta with some kind of chicken in tomato sauce, wine, bread, cheese. I had some sort of herbal aperitif which was quite nice. It took about 3 hours to get to Barcelona by high speed train.

Train travel is really so much better than plane travel. There is less hassle boarding and the trip itself is so much nicer. You don’t have to get to the train station two hours early (even though I kind of did), you don’t have to strip when passing through security (there isn’t always security, but apparently in Madrid, there is), and there is more room than on a plane. Plus you are not breathing that stale recycled air, and it has a low carbon footprint. I hope we can get more high speed rails in the US.

When I arrived in Barcelona is when the aggravation began. I tried calling the number I was supposed to call, but nothing was happening. I tried several times, cursing the whole time because if they had just let me go to the apartment directly (this is what the guys in Buenos Aires do), it would have been so much simpler. I could not figure out what I was doing wrong.

Fortunately, there was a tourist information center right next to the phones. I went over and showed the girl the number and asked her how I had to dial. She said I needed to dial 00 before the 34 and then the number. (34 is the prefix for Spain, so I was surprised I had to dial it).

I went back and tried that several times. No luck. I moved to a different phone. No luck.

I went back to the Tourist Information Counter and asked a different girl. She told me it was a mobile phone and I should omit the 34. I asked, “no 00?” – no 00. Seems I was given the wrong information by the tourist information center.
So I went back, now after struggling with this for 15 minutes and finally got through.

Some French guy answered. When I told him I was at the station, he told me he could not be free for 45 minutes! I was kind of pissed at this point, partly because I had to call in the first place, and partly because they gave me this number to call but didn’t tell me I didn’t have to dial 34, and now I had to wait!???

I told him I had sent my arrival time and didn’t understand why I had to wait. He didn’t seem to care. He told me he would be there at 3:45. I just hung up the phone without saying good-bye. I was thinking about just ditching the whole thing because every interaction I have had with these Feel Barcelona people has felt wrong.
So I went and sat down in the station and tried to connect to the internet, and surprisingly, there was free WiFi! I got an update from my sister-in-law on my Dad’s condition, and it sounds hopeful, sort of. I checked rates for the Axel Hotel and it was way out of my budget. So it seemed I was stuck with my Almodovar apartment and the Feel Barcelona people who felt not so good.

In the mean time a stinky old couple came and sat down next to me. I am not sure why they smelled bad, but they did. And they were very loud. They were shouting across at some other old people on the other side of the station. I was in a serious state of dishevelment and was ready to snap. I didn’t. I just complained about them in an e-mail to my sister-in-law and finally got up to go get my taxi.
I have no idea where I am. I think I am in a section of Barcelona called El Raval. I’m not sure. It feels a little funky. It is definitely not L’Eixample, where I thought I was staying. I wanted to stay in L’Eixample because it is the gay neighborhood (they call it gayxample), and I have learned that gay neighborhoods are good, and also it is where most of the Gaudi stuff is, and that is the main reason I am here. But I am not in L’Eixample. I am in some funky, out of the way neighborhood, and I don’t know where I am.

So I sat on the stoop and waited for Frenchy to arrive, and of course, he was late.
He was a young guy, probably working for Feel Barcelona. He opened the door and bolted up the three flights of stairs, not even offering to take one of my bags. I struggled with my very heavy backpack, and my not so heavy, but bulky other bag. It was hard. The flights were long and the bag was heavy. By the time I reached the top I was completely out of breath. I think I may have suffered a mild heart attack (seriously, my chest hurts, but in the center, so maybe it is something else). I was not happy. So far, there had been not one inkling of an effort at making me a satisfied and happy customer. Instead e-mails with BIG BOLD LETTERS emphasizing the rules over and over again and now this very awkward check-in which was really just about getting the money and laying out more rules for me (if you leave any garbage, you will be charged 50 euros, if you make noise, you will lose your security deposit, etc., etc…) I don’t think I was ever welcomed to Barcelona and I was not told anything about where I was, where I might find a supermarket, subway, given a map. Nothing. These people sucked in terms of vacation rentals.

The apartment looks like it did on the website. It is quite stylish. I love the big poster of Penelope Cruz in the living room from Volver, I love the kitchen, and the living room and I love having two bedrooms. It has always been my dream to have two bedrooms, so that I could just throw clothes in one and keep the other one clean. And that is exactly what I did. I chose the one I would sleep in and in the other one, I unpacked my bag and it is a mess! I love it.

The bathroom is very small. I have to straddle the toilet like I am getting on a horse or motorcycle. It means when I sit on it I cannot have any pants or underwear on. It just won’t work. But all in all, the apartment is good.

Except….there is no internet. I can’t believe there is no internet. I thought all vacation rental apartments had internet. I’m guessing that the location (who knows where I am) and the no internet are the two reasons why this very nice two-bedroom apartment costs less than Amsterdam and Madrid. It is 1/3 the price I paid for two weeks in Amsterdam and half of what I paid in Madrid. And I am in Barcelona! Originally, Barcelona was going to be my base instead of Seville, but the apartments I was finding were so expensive I couldn’t afford it. I put Barcelona at the end of the trip and at the last minute before I left, I found this apartment. I never questioned why it was so cheap until I was ready to leave Madrid.

Once I was unpacked, I went out to look for a supermarket. I wasn’t finding it as easily as I thought I would. There seemed to be nothing in the neighborhood. When sitting on the step waiting for Frenchy, I saw several people walking by with bags of fruit and vegetables, so I knew there was something, I just wasn’t finding it.
Finally I did find a produce market. I got some apples, bananas, oranges and red peppers. It was enough to make sure I didn’t starve. On the way home I stopped at a little Arab run grocery store and got a bottle of water (I have found the tap water in Spain to be really nasty). And then as I passed the Chinese restaurant on my corner, I decided to go in and get some food to go, hoping it would not be too bad or too salty.

There was one family eating and three Chinese people standing around. I ordered noodles and kung pao chicken and sat down to wait for my order.

A dark-skinned guy, who I thought might be Indian, stuck his head in and made a surprised face. The woman working behind the counter said something about there being one table and that is why they were open. I realized it was siesta hour and they should have been closed.

I enjoyed sitting there and listening to the conversation between the Chinese woman and this guy, who turned out not to be Indian at all, as he spoke Spanish quite fluently. I didn’t think he was was from Spain, but I don’t know. The Chinese woman’s Spanish was pretty good, obviously she spoke with a Chinese accent, and she didn’t use the past tense, but she was pretty confident and fluent.

The woman was asking him if he had electricity earlier. Apparently he works across the street. He said he didn’t know because he wasn’t working. She said she lost her electricity from 1:30-3:30, during her peak lunch hour. She said she had to cook by candlelight. It was such a funny conversation, I couldn’t help laugh with the rest of them when she was telling the story. I was beginning to feel better about my neighborhood. It was nice to observe this interaction between two (probable) immigrants to Barcelona. The guy had a coffee and then a shot of scotch. I guess he was gearing up to go to work.

I came home ate my Chinese food, which was quite good and not too salty, and decided to go out and try to find a Locutori (that’s what they call them here) to check my e-mail and also to alert folks that I am internetless.

On the way back, I stopped in the Arab grocery again and picked up some tuna, vinegar and oil and yogurt. I now had a pretty good selection of healthy eats.
It was only 7 p.m. and I thought it would be good to explore my neighborhood a little before it got too late. Barcelona has a serious reputation as a pickpocket haven. I left my wallet and just took a little cash with me.

I walked to the corner to a street called Avenida Paral.lel . I don’t know why they spell it Paral.lel. I walked in the direction of Placa Espanya. I don’t know how far Placa Espanya is or if I ever reached it, but after a while I got tired and walked back.

I enjoyed reading the signs in Catalan, the language they speak here in Barcelona and the rest of Catalonia, which is an autonomous region in Spain. Under Franco, Catalan was banned, but since then its revival and autonomy have been important gains in Catalonia and other autonomous regions in Spain (which have different languages). Catalan is a Romance language and it looks like a mixture of Spanish, French, Italian and Portuguese. I have no idea how to say even hello in Catalan, and since I don’t have an internet connection, I can’t even look it up. It is amazing how dependent I have become on the internet on this trip, but without it, I couldn’t have done half the things I’ve done.

Avenida Paral.lel, is a nice Avenue. There were lots of shops catering to immigrant types, shops selling wigs and hair products for African women, Chinese and Arab run groceries, and a bunch of other stores, mostly restaurants. The people here seem very diverse, and I am definitely in an immigrant area. I started to like the neighborhood the more I walked.

And so now I am back, blogging without an internet connection (I am hoping on Monday to get some sort of wireless card that will enable me to connect and post my blog entries, learn how to say hello in Catalan, etc.) and ready to make some popcorn and see what is on TV.

It’s been a rough day and I am so ready to get back to SF and begin my travels in the other direction where I know things will be easy, pleasant, and oh so friendly. But for now, I am in Barcelona and I will do my best to enjoy it.

Stranded in Segovia

2009-10-30T01:17:00.001-07:00

Well, it turns out I was not tied down by my 5 p.m. skype call yesterday, so I was free to go ahead with my plan to visit Segovia. I wanted to see the aqueduct, which is monumental, and as an added bonus, the castle that inspired Walt Disney in his creation of Cinderella's castle in Disneyland.

I started by researching the trains to find the times I wanted to go. I knew (I thought) that this was Cercanias - the local trains, rather than Renfe - the trains that go longer distances. After writing down the times I wanted to go and return based on their availability and price, I took the subway to the train station (I could have walked, but thought I'd use up my 10-trip subway ticket and I would be walking enough in Segovia).

I arrived at the Cercanias ticket office at about 10:15. I was an hour early. I stood in line and watched as most of the people ahead of me were sent to a different place (silly tourists) because they wanted to go to Toledo.

I confidently stepped up to the window, knowing what I wanted and where I was going and said, "Segovia?", perhaps a little doubt in my voice.

The woman in the window told me the next train was not until noon. I asked her about the 11:15 train and she said it was from Chamartin. Ah, Chamartin raised its head again! From behind me I felt an insistent pushing. Was I taking too long? I ignored it, and cointinued my questioning. Can I buy the ticket here? She said yes. I then asked about the return. She told me I could do that at Chamartin. Then the total appeared on her cash register - 1.20 euro. She was selling me a ticket for the Cercania train to Chamartin.

Just then the pushing from behind became forceful enough for the woman who was pushing me to push her way up to the window. She asked if the 11:15 train to Segovia was "rapido". The woman in the window said yes. Then the pushy woman looked at me and said to be sure I take a "rapido" or else it would take me two hours. I thanked her for her advice and chuckled at the whole scene.

I walked to the train to Chamartin which arrived within two minutes (so far, for all subways and local trains in Madrid, I have not had to wait for more than 3 minutes for any of them. Amazing!)

Within a few minutes I was back at Chamartin station. As I exited the Cercanias line, like before, there was a woman in uniform standing there to answer questions (something else I really love). I asked her where I could buy a ticket to Segovia. She directed me to the upper level, same as before when I went to Avila and Salamanca. I asked her if it was Cercanias, and she told me no, it was Regional. I guess my research was all wrong. So much for being a know-it-all.

I went up to the ticket office and there was actually a window designated for the 11:15 train to Segovia. I bought my ticket with my 18:20 return. Thinking that four hours more or less was enough time to see Segovia, have lunch and return, maybe giving me enough time to make one more visit to the Reina Sofia museum.

The trip was quick, about 30 minutes, and we arrived at Segovia Guiomar station. Was this it? I thought we were going to Segovia. What was this Guiomar? I watched and some people who looked like they were tourists were getting up. But what did they know? A lot of people who were getting up looked Spanish. I got up, but didn't want to get off at the wrong station. Maybe the Segovia I wanted was the next station. I asked a Spanish looking man if there was another station in Segovia. He brusquely answered "no". So I got off.

I exited the station and there were two number 11 buses in front of the station. For some reason people were getting on the bus behind the first one, i.e., the second bus. They were both number 11. I went for the one at the head of the line. A German-looking couple got on and said "Segovia?" the driver said yes. I thought it was a silly question, I mean, where in Segovia were you going. So I got on and asked, "al centro?" and the driver said yes. The fare was 88 centavos. Drivers provide change on buses here. Good thing. Can you imagine having to always have exact change?

We sat for about 15 minutes as the rest of the crew from my train made their way out and piled on the bus, I imagine each one of them asking the driver some questions such as "Segovia?", "al centro" and "how much"? The people who got on the bus behind ours eventually got off and came onto our bus. We were now packed in like sardines.

We started heading through this deserted landscape, nothing but brown soil and roads. In the far distance was a big yellowish building. An Italian woman sitting behind me said to her companion who was sitting next to me, "is that the cathedral?" - the guy sitting next to her said yes.

I couldn't believe we were so far from the city. Nothing I had read told me I had to take a bus to the center. I just did it because it was there and I am kind of getting tired of walking so much (and I knew I would be walking in Segovia). But on we went, through barren countryside, suburbs, and finally arriving at the giant aqueduct that signaled the entrance to the old historic part of Segovia.

Immediately past the aqueduct was the tourist information center. I had seen people getting on the bus with these nice tourist maps and I somehow missed getting mine, so I went into the TIC, which I had read was one of the most helpful in Spain and asked for a map. The woman gave me a map, opened it, showed me where we were, circled the cathedral and showed me how to get to it, and circled the Alcazar (the castle) and showed me how to get to there from the cathedral. She then went on to point out several other parts of town I might want to visit and mentioned a few other buildings worth checking out. I was going to ask questions, but she went on for some time with my orientation. Finally, when she was finished I asked about tourist buses. She said there was one that made a tour around the outside of the city, but to really see it, you had to walk. Added that it was an easy walk.

I then asked her about going to the top of the aqueduct and she told me just to go up the stairs to the left of the entrance and then showed me on the map how I could walk from the top of the aqueduct to the cathedral without having to come down the stairs again. It was true, this was by far the most helpful tourist information center in all of Spain, perhaps in the world!

And so I started my exploration, first climbing to the top of the stairs to see the aqueduct from the top. The thing was gigantic! Really a true wonder of engineering. It was built without mortar and has stood for about 2,000 years. And at one time actually transported water! How is it that it has not fallen down? I read that the Moors destroyed a part of it and parts have been restored, but I could still see many sections that looked unrepaired. Quite amazing!

From there I walked to the cathedral, noticing the interesting patterns on the buildings, which were quite different from other cities I've been to in Spain. It was a lovely day. Perfect temperature, sunny, and quite fresh at this high elevation.

The cathedral was not terribly interesting to me, so I didn't go inside. I wanted to see the castle. So I continued my walk, stopping along the way to take photos.

I finally arrived at the castle which looked out over the fields and village below. Trees were just beginning to change color. Most were yellow or yellowish, but some were turning red or orange. In a few weeks, it would be a vibrant burst of color. Too bad I was early, but still it was lovely, with the trees below giving way to brown fields which stretched out to the mountains in the distance.

The castle itself was not a disappointment either. It sure did look like Cinderella's Castle (or is it Snow White's?) at Disneyland. Not that I've ever been to Disneyland, but I've seen pictures. As I approached, I was walking next to three Asian girls I thought might be Japanese. Suddenly a wind blew and one of the trees on the path let go of a flurry of leaves, which fell gently to the ground like cherry blossoms. "Aaaaaahhh...oooooohhh, sugoi!!!!" cried the girls next to me. Yep, they were Japanese.

I know I've been complaining a lot about my fellow tourists. I need something to complain about, but I have to say, the Japanese have been a delight to find out the tourist trail. Their reactions to things are priceless, they are always polite and unobtrusive, and surprisingly they don't travel in large groups (or at least I haven't seen them in groups). The most I've seen have been groups three or four. In Belem, a cute older Japanese woman in line behind me at the pastry shop asked me in English what was good. I told her I didn't know, and she got quite a chuckle. Then when she got to the counter she pointed to the pastry she wanted and said two in Portuguese. I was very impressed. As a foreigner in Japan, I found them a bit unwelcoming, but as tourists, I think they are among the best!

Anyway, back to the castle. It was quite impressive. Everything a castle should have, dungeons, shining armor, towers, cannons, the drawbridge was stone (I imagine at one point it was a real drawbridge). I climbed to the top of the tower through a very narrow winding staircase that was very claustrophobic and because of the high altitude I began to become very breathless and felt like I could have a panic attack when I realized I was encased in this stone tower with quite a distance to go up or down to get out. So I stopped and caught my breath, and slowly went up to the top where I was treated with a fantastic view.

I was enjoying myself immensely. Segovia was not as beautiful as Sintra with its lovely woodsy setting, this was a city with cobblestone streets, buildings, etc., and the trees were outside, but still, it was lovely.

I walked through the Juderia, the old Jewish quarter, because I have always found them to be among the most interesting parts of old Spanish cities. But I found I wasn't really sure where it actually was. If I was in it, it didn't look the same as in Toledo or Seville, where it was very distinctively different.

It was 2 p.m. and school was letting out. Parents were going to pick up their kids to take them home for lunch. There was a flurry of activity around me, children running in all directions as I made my way back up to the cathedral and then began looking for a place for lunch. I figured I would eat lunch, take another short walk and then head back to the train station for my 4:20 train.

And then it hit me. My return train was 18:20. That was not 4:20. Somehow I had bought a return ticket for 6:20. What was I going to do for another 4 hours?!!!

I found a place to eat lunch and it turned out the Italian couple from the bus was there. It was funny because in Italy I kept comparing the shabby, dorky tourist outfits to the chic and elegant (even if they were casual) Italians. And I looked over at this Italian man who was wearing tan travel pants (they are those quick dry, non-wrinkle type), sneakers, bright blue fanny pack, travel shirt (another no-wrinkle, quick dry thing) and baseball cap. He looked like all of the dorky tourists I saw in Rome. I guess it doesn't matter how they dress at home, when they hit the road, all tourists shop at the same store - REI, or some equivalent.

My lunch was okay. The menu was weird. They had raciones, large plates of tapas, but no half raciones or tapas. That meant I could get something like garlic shrimp and pretty much have that be my meal, unless I wanted to pay more for a salad or some extras. I didn't want to do that. They had some combination plates that all came with fried eggs. I was not sure why. Finally I decided on pork tenderloin with two fried eggs and fried peppers. I figured I haven't eaten many eggs lately and even though I am not a huge egg fan, it would be an okay lunch.

It was just that. Okay. The pork was tasteless, the fried peppers were okay, and actually the eggs were really yummy. I also had a beer, which hit the spot.

I was starting to get tired and thought about having a coffee and maybe desert, but decided since I had time to kill (more time than I thought), I would walk and see if I could find another place for desert.

Before I knew it, I was back at the aqueduct. Segovia was not a very big place. I decided to stop into the very helpful tourist information center to see if I could get my train ticket changed. They told me at first that if there were seats it was possible, but then they said there were no seats on the 4:08 train. It looked like I was stuck there until 6:20.

I walked through the newer part of town looking for a place to sit and have a coffee or a chocolate and hoping I might find a place that served that delicious Moroccan mint tea I had in Ceuta and in Morocco. No luck. It was basically a pretty boring pedestrian shopping mall with a view of an amazing aqueduct.

I walked back and settled on a cafe right at the foot of the aqueduct. I ordered chocolate con churros. They were out of churros and offered me from their selection of donuts and breads that did not look very appetizing. I settled for just the chocolate.

As I was sitting there in the shadow of this amazing monstrosity in awe of its size and the fact that it was still standing after all these years, the tourist bus appeared at its base. Perfect timing!

I walked over, paid my 5.70 and climbed aboard. Even though it was going to go around the outskirts of the old city, I thought it was a perfect way to kill 50 minutes. And it was.

We rode around the base of the wall that surrounds the city and then went further out into the countryside for views back at the city, the castle, the cathedral. It was lovely. The sun was beginning to fall down in the sky and there was a beautiful afternoon glow set over the fall landscape of brown fields and trees beginning to change color. It was one of the most pleasant open-air bus rides I've had on this trip. I felt like I was riding in a convertible (well, I was sort of). It felt great having the cool, fresh wind blowing in my face, the sun shining, and circling around this majestic city on a hill.

After the tour, I took one more walk up to the top of the aqueduct, took a few more photos with the shadows of the aqueduct now stretching long on the city below, walked up towards the other end and found a chocolateria! It was now after 5 and a quick snack of churros and chocolate was the perfect thing before I made my way back to the train station.

A French family from my original train (I remembered seeing them in Chamartin station and in my coach on the train) was sitting outside of the chocolateria. The father went inside to order, so I followed his lead.

The guy working inside looked kind of like a young Pavarotti. He was wearing a red and white striped apron that reminded me of a barbershop quartet. He seemed very busy, even though there were only a few people there.

Finally, he recognized me and said, "diga". I have to say, this is one of the most annoying things I have found on my trip. Waiters who say "diga". Literally it means speak. I just find it really rude, even if it is culturally acceptable in Spain. They don't say it in any other Spanish speaking countries I've visited. I want to bark like a dog when they say it.

Anyway, I spoke, and said "churros con chocolate" and was about to say "on the terrace" when he cut me off with the price.

He did not look happy. I felt like I had done something wrong.

I paid him and stood waiting for further instructions, such as, "okay, go sit down, and we'll bring it to you". I thought maybe I was supposed to wait, and carry it out myself, since that is what I had done at the place I had the chocolate earlier. Mr. Pavarotti-lookalike just ignored me as he sighed and grunted while doing things with his fancy computerized cash register. I looked at the different selections of chocolates. Read the sign that said "do not touch" which made me want to touch the things on display, but I didn't.

Finally, he looked at me indignantly and said something like, "is there something I can help you with?!!" I told him I was waiting for my churros and chocolate. He said, "Huh?" I thought maybe he had forgotten, so I explained that I had ordered churros and chocolate. He said brusquely, "go sit outside, we'll bring it".

I muttered "asshole" under my breath and went outside.

In a few minutes a waitress appeared with a cup of steaming, thick chocolate, threw an ashtray on the table and said the churros were coming. Mr. Pavarotti lookalike came out with the churros. I did not like the atmosphere at this place at all, even if their chocolate was good and the churros came as close to the ones I had in Granada yet (they were a bit greasy).

I only had enough time to gulp down the churros and couldn't finish the chocolate because it was too rich before heading over to catch the number 11 back to the station. It turned out the extra time in Segovia was a blessing. Aside from the grumpy service at the chocolateria, I had had a really lovely time and was really happy I had the opportunity to experience Segovia on such a beautiful day.

Today it is supposed to go up to 78 in Madrid. Good thing because I washed my one pair of jeans last night and they are still drying. I can wear shorts today. Perhaps I will take a walk in El Retiro park after I finish my morning chores and have lunch. Tomorrow Barcelona. This part of the journey is almost over.

Missing Lisbon

2009-10-28T09:49:00.000-07:00

I got back to my apartment very easily yesterday. We arrived at Madrid airport at 3:00 p.m., and I was home by 4, at a cost of only 2 Euros. I was pretty impressed. There is a subway line that goes through the airport terminals (it has other destinations) - I had to take that and two other subway lines to get home, but it was quick, easy and cheap. Not something I would want to do with a lot of luggage, but fortunately, I had only my one small carry on bag.

It was good to be back in my apartment and cook dinner without adding salt. My ear was beginning to feel full and I had to take extra medicine. Portuguese food was yummy, but eating out always means too much sodium.

So today I had nothing planned. I had a 5 p.m. skype call, so that kind of limited what I could do. I want to make a trip to Segovia and was planning on tomorrow, but skype froze on me today so my 5 p.m. call is now tomorrow. Guess I have another day in Madrid and Segovia will be on Friday. My last day trip from here.

What I had today was a mission. I like having missions because they get me out with a purpose, which is different from getting out and just wandering around. It was kind of a frustrating mission though, I needed to find a Banesto ATM, and I wasn't having any luck.

First I went to Corte Ingles to buy a little food - some salad stuff, tuna, Wasa crackers (high fiber) all to help me get rid of the extra poundage I might have picked up in Lisbon and also to get my sodium levels back on track. I was hoping I'd pass an ATM on the way, but I didn't. So, from there I walked around looking for one on my way home. I found none.

Instead, I think I saw the funeral of the King (or maybe the King's father) or some royal person who I think died. I saw a flash of news yesterday while I was waiting for one of the subway cars until it broke in with lottery results, so I didn't get the full story. I tried looking in Yahoo News (Spain) and the only thing there was some news about a fat baby in the US and Brad Pitt's motorcycle accident, but I swear I saw news about the king dying.

So today I walked down to Plaza Mayor and when I didn't find an ATM for my bank (other banks were plentiful but charge a surcharge, and since I wasn't desperate, I wasn't going to pay). When I didn't find one, and since I was carrying a bag of groceries I headed home, walking past some ministry building. There were a lot of police and a big crowd gathered. I saw some women I thought I saw on TV yesterday - I think they called them the enfantas - maybe the daughters of the king. They were under a makeshift type of building and receiving people who were going up to them and shaking their hands, I guessed offering their condolences. The police were very aggressively doing crowd control, so I was pretty sure that was the Royal Family up there, unless I completely misunderstood the news yesterday (it is like I dreamed it).

Further down the street a church that looks like it was once a mosque had a really long line of mostly women, waiting to go in. They'd go in and come out. The line ran to the end of the block and around the corner. I guessed they were viewing the king's body. Either that or buying lottery tickets (on Monday in Lisbon I saw an equally long line and it turned out they were in line for the lottery).

After lunch, I went out to try again. I walked along major streets and saw all of the banks, but no Banesto. Finally, on Gran Via I found my bank. A woman was taking forever at the ATM but finally I was able to withdraw 300 Euros. I have about 300 left in my account. I have come to the end of my money for this trip and have just about enough to get me through 10 days in Barcelona if I budget wisely (I've already put aside the money for my apartment there).

I headed back towards Plaza Mayor and passed a little alley I had never seen before and I could see a Chocolateria. After my tuna salad lunch, I was craving something else and churros and chocolate on this lovely little alley seemed like just the ticket.

I chose a table away from everyone else so I would not have to eat my churros with cigarette smoke and settled in for a nice relaxing afternoon treat.

Just then, three young guys walked by and bummed a cigarette from an older guy who was walking with a toddler, probably his grandson, who had a pacifier in his mouth. They then stood one table away from me and proceeded to roll something in the cigarette, maybe hash, while having a very loud conversation (often the three of them speaking at the same time over one another) in really annoying, bad Spanish. I could hardly understand what they were saying but what was clear to me was they were not pronouncing things very clearly. I imagined this was a kind of hip, tough, young, street-smart way of speaking, but it was getting on my nerves. Then they sat down at the table next to me and started to smoke.

I was really annoyed, so I got up and moved to sit next to a French family that had 5 boys, the oldest looking very preppy with sweaters tied over their shoulders, and none of them looking like they were going to light up a cigarette at any point before I finished my chocolate (they were too busy enjoying their churros and chocolate).

Walking back, this time with my camera, I walked past the ministry of whatever building to take a picture of the Royals, but they were gone. The line still remained at the church. I thought it was an odd church to lay out the king if he really did die, so maybe it was a lottery or some kind of feast day or holy day like when people get their throats blessed (that was always one of my favorites). I guess I need to turn on the Spanish news to see if I can find anything out.

I got home and had received an e-mail from Tony, an agent from the rental company I am renting the apartment in Barcelona from. He e-mailed me last night and wanted to know URGENTLY, my arrival time on Saturday. I e-mailed him back, and like I did with the folks here in Madrid, asked if I could simply hop in a taxi from the train station (because unlike the airlines, trains are pretty reliable) and they could estimate my arrival time in taxi from the station, rather than calling. And like the folks in Madrid, he said, no, I have to call when I arrive in the train station to confirm my arrival time to the apartment. What a pain! I have tried to find a telephone card to use with public phones but they only have international cards. And I don't know how much a phone call is, but in Seville, I put in 1 Euro, which is like $1.50 and got cut off during my call, which is why I don't want to call. I'm getting really tired of Spanish rigidness and so looking for the sweetness of the Balinese who respond to every e-mail I send them with lovely things like "we are so looking forward to serving you and hoping we can do everything to make your stay pleasant" - instead with the Spaniards, I get e-mails demanding urgent information and no willingness to work with me to make things a little less stressful.

Then on top of all this, when I looked in my yahoo mail file where all of my e-mails I got before I started using my laptop are stored, I noticed they were asking for a 300 Euro CASH deposit to be returned upon my departure. This is not good. First of all it would completely blow my budget, and secondly, it would mean I'd finish my trip with 300 euros that I would not be able to spend.

I was starting to worry because if they insisted I had to leave a 300 euro cash deposit, I was not going to stay there, but then I looked at other options for Barcelona and I couldn't find anything as cheap as this apartment (and I am wondering WHY it is so cheap) - I wanted to just skip Barcelona, and in fact, I wanted to go to NJ where my father is in the hospital right now and then head back to SF to be with my friends for my long-awaited week home.

I wasn't getting a response from the agent, after I sent my e-mail telling him I could not pay the cash deposit, and explaining why, so I called the office (thank goodness for skype). Tony was not in, but the woman I spoke to eventually gave in (after saying she was not authorized to make that decision) when she realized I was only one person (their policy is 2-bedroom apartments or apartments with terraces all must leave a cash deposit - I am not sure why).

So, now I am a little more relaxed and hoping Barcelona will enchant me as much as Lisbon did. While I love the subway system in Madrid, my little walk today could not in any way compete with the walks I took in Lisbon. I walked across Plaza Mayor with Mickey Mouse making animal balloons and several human statues including a guy in a coffin playing a guitar all trying to get money from tourists, and remembered the plazas I crossed in Lisbon that instead of big, hard, gray cobblestones, had lovely little black and white stones arranged in beautiful, complex patterns, with fountains in the middle and the plazas full of life, not feeling cold and lifeless like Plaza Mayor felt to me today. The standard has been set, and either Barcelona will rise to the standard, or not. I'll find out on Saturday.

Sintra

2009-10-26T13:27:00.000-07:00

I think I love Lisbon more today than I did yesterday. Too bad I am leaving tomorrow, but I am also ready to go, and come back! I want to study Portuguese, come back when it is cooler with appropriate clothes, walking shoes and a guide book! I came on the fly with no knowledge other than a little information a friend sent me, and I still had a great time. In fact, I had the best time here of any country I have ever visited (maybe.... I need to think about that when the wine wears off).

Well, today I woke up early, around 7:10, because I went to bed early last night, and also we are two hours behind Madrid, so it was really 9:10. It's really only one hour difference, but we fell behind on Saturday night. Also, the bathroom fans in my hotel are very noisy and someone on my floor was up bright and early and woke me up.

It was all good. Breakfast starts at 7:30. I was there when they turned the lights on, ate my breakfast and headed out.

I walked to a big square (I don't know the name) where I bought pao de chorizo com queijo yesterday - bread with chorizo and cheese - it was a good snack to have in my bag. Since I was going to Sintra and my friend Yaari told me there wasn't anything good to eat there, I wanted to be prepared.

But, I could not for the life of me find the bakery. I walked around the square three times and I could not find it. I was sure the bakery was on that square yesterday! Frustrated, I decided to head to the train station hoping there would be a place to buy the same thing in the station. I walked down a street behind the square. I passed an open door and looked inside and it was the bakery I had been looking for. So I went around front and there it was. I had missed it three times!
Maybe I should start drinking coffee again!!

This time I knew where and how to order. I like the system. You order, and they put this little plastic card in a machine and add your items, then if you go to a different counter ( I guess they have a counter for sweet and a counter for savory and maybe another one for coffee) they add all of your purchases, then you go to the cashier and she totals it up and you pay!

So I went to the savory counter and asked for two chorizo breads and a bottle of water. There was a new cashier, but like the one yesterday, she was extremly cheery and helpful! Unbelievable after the sourpusses in Seville! I was holding a 10 euro note ready to pay and she (speaking to me in Portuguese) said, "Oh, no, put that away, it is not going to be that much" (rough translation). She told me it was three euros. I obediently put away the 10 euro note and pulled out the change I had in my pocket. I gave her three euros, but she wanted more. She wanted another five euros in change (of course she was going to give me a bill), but I didn't have it. She was so cute though. She thanked me profusely, and then when she gave me my chorizo bread and water, she went over to the napkin holder and pulled out a bunch of napkins, thanking me again. I swear, she thanked me more in the one transaction than I was thanked in a month and a half in Seville!

I walked to the train station, a short walk, and it looked like there was a train to Sintra every 10 minutes. I bought my ticket (3.40 euros round-trip), climbed aboard and off we went. It was so easy.

Upon arriving in Sintra, I did not know what to do. I had read that I should go left and left, but a sign pointed right. I followed the sign. I arrived at a big beautiful palace that looked like it was the town hall. I thought there might be a tourist information center, but there wasn't, so I kept on walking.

Sintra was so green and lush and the air felt so fresh, cool and clean. I walked along, allowing the others who got off the train with me to move ahead of me, so that I had the street pretty much to myself other than the occassional car. I passed some really beautiful sculptures (public art project) and a lovely little arabic pavilion that had a spigot with water coming out. People were filling up water bottles. I walked over to get a better look and a woman who was filling up lots of jugs with water asked me if I wanted a drink. I pulled out my half empty water bottle and filled it up. I sure hope that water was safe to drink!

I continued walking. The hills were dotted with beautiful storybook castles and palaces and the sky was speckled with little dots of clouds. It could not have been a more perfect day and I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the place.

I knew I could not walk all the way up to the castle, so when I came across the tourist information center I asked if there was a tourist bus. I was informed that there was a public bus that would take me to the top and I could hop on and off at different stops all day. The ticket was 4.50 euros.

The bus came and on our way up these amazingly narrow winding roads (for such a big bus) we passed a really beautiful moss covered gate with a sign that said "dos lagos" (the lakes) - when the bus stopped everyone went up the hill but I didn't know where they were going. I went down, thinking how cool I was for taking the road less traveled.

I snapped a picture of the moss covered entryway and peeked inside. There was a sign that said "saida" (exit), but there was no one there, so I went inside. There was a beautiful little lake with a castle turret inside and a few ducks and an amazing black swan. I was snapping pictures when out of nowhere a man came and asked me for my ticket. I told him I did not have one. He told me I had to go up the hill and buy one and that I came in the exit. I still was not sure where the entrance was. He got inside of this little booth and struggled to open the window. I waited, thinking he would sell me a ticket. It was very Wizard of Oz. He opened the little window and then sort of yelled at me that he was not selling tickets. I had to go up the hill. Go get the broom of the wicked witch of the west was what I heard.

I went up the hill, not intending to return to the lakes, and got a combination ticket. I was not sure what it was for. I was at the Moorish palace.

I entered and found a beautiful green path with big moss covered rocks leading to a big fortres wall with an incredible view of Sintra and the hills below. I didn't explore too much because my legs and feet were telling me not to over do it.

I left, returning to the bus stop and went up to the next palace. I forget the name - Pena or something like that. It was a true Cinderella castle with all kinds of fun stuff going on in the design. I unfortunately got stuck inside, not knowing what I was doing, I entered and found myself in the little stuffy rooms filled with all kinds of old junk, I mean antiques, but I wanted to get out and see the outside of the castle, which I found more interesting. So I pushed past groups of little kids and French and German tourists who were taking their good old time reading all of the signs and discussing every piece of furniture until finally I was back in the fresh air.

I had a great time actually, and really loved seeing these castles.

I hopped on the bus and the next stop was a palace I had already seen from the outside and I thought I would end up in more stuffy rooms, so I just stayed on the bus and went to the train station.

I got on the train and was back in Lisbon in time for lunch.

Today is Monday and the city was so much different from yesterday and also from this morning. It seemed so vibrant and so diverse. Lots of Africans hung around the big square where I went to the bakery this morning. People were hanging out in cafes and traffic was buzzing about. I wanted to find a good restaurant that served piri piri chicken that was away from the tourist traps.

I walked into the old Moorish neighborhood, thinking that would be the place to find traditional food and get away from the other tourists. I walked up a little winding cobblestone street. The layout of this neighborhood was the same as the Albaicyn in Granada, and Santa Cruz in Seville. It was clear the Arabs had built it.

But as I climbed the hill it didn't look like I was going to find piri piri chicken. More likely I would get mugged or lost, so I came back down, passing lovely scenes of Lisboans chatting, resting, living their lives beyond the view of most tourists. I could not believe the old people coming down that hill, which was difficult for me!

Finally I did find a restaurant that served piri piri chicken. Piri piri is this oil with hot peppers in it. I had it in Brazil and loved it. I got my chicken, which was just grilled chicken and a bottle of piri piri. I thought it would be something different, but it was still good. It was a huge meal. Chicken, french fries, rice and a salad, and water, all for under 10 euros. And it was good. Only complaint - I was sitting outside and people would come out for a smoke, right next to me. But I am loving Lisbon so much I am even starting to like the smoke! Weird!

I walked to the Plaça do comercio and got on the little tourist tram for one last ride. It went up the winding hills through the old Moorish neighborhood where Fado was born up and down hills through the Alfama, another neighborhood I am drawn to and finally to Porto do Sol, a big plaza with an amazing view of the city below. I got off, took a few photos and started walking, following the tram tracks, thinking I would get on again and get off at another stop.

Instead I walked down the hill and found myself in the Baixa, the downtown area where I started off. I decided it was time to head back to my hotel for a nap.

But then I remembered the elevator. There is this big metal tower thing in the downtown that they call the Santa Justa elevator. I guess that is what it is, a big outdoor elevator. My tour ticket enabled me a free ride. So I walked over only to find a big line and two people behind me who had no sense of personal space, and no matter how many times I moved forward to avoid touching them (because I was really hot), they continued to press themselves against me (I think they were Russian).

When I saw it was going to take a while for me to get on the elevator, I changed my mind and walked up the stairs to get another look at it, and then walked down a different street, passing a little bakery with a few tables outside. I saw they had port, and decided I would try a glass of white port, which I did.

It was very nice and a nice thing to do in the middle of the afternoon.

Finally, I made my way back to my hotel, took a shower and a nap.

I asked the clerk at the hotel for a recommendation for dinner. I told him I was looking for a place that served typical Portuguese food and was nearby.

He fished around and pulled out a little map and told me it was his favorite restaurant. They had grilled seafood, meat, etc, and there were many Portuguese there.

So after my nap and watching a little MTV, I headed off.

It was near, and I liked the little neighborhood. There were no Portuguese, just two men, maybe dad and son, most likely German (they looked).

I was ready for a feast though, and it looked like this place could supply it. I asked the waiter for a recommendation. I saw they had porco a aletejano, a dish Yaari recommended that I had last night and liked, but could see how it could be REALY good if done right, but I went with the waiter's suggestion, which was seafood. I got grilled swordfish and an appetizer of octupus salad.

The octopus was good. I have decided I really like octopus, especially when it is in little pieces and marinated. The swordfish was okay but it came with vegetables and potatoes. I think it was the first broccoli I have had in over two months. It felt healthy.

For desert I had flan and got a free glass of port because I had a little map/coupon from my hotel. As I was finishing my meal two groups came in - both French. I was beginning to think there were no Portuguese who ate here. But the port was superb. Tawny. I have to remember that kind of port. Fruity but not too sweet. I really liked it to finish the meal.

And so now I am in this tourist information center because it is the only place that I have found that has internet. I had to walk past the restaurant I almost ate at last night, but changed my mind at the last minute. I walked up to look at the menu and asked if they had porco a aletejano and the woman who was trying to lure customers said yes. She seemed Russian, not Portuguese, but I sat down anyway. Then a waiter came to take my drink order. I told him I needed a minute. He also seemed Russian. I began thinking it was weird to eat in a Russian run restaurant when I was looking for traditional Portuguese food. Also, their restaurant was empty while others were doing good business. Finally I got up and told the woman I was going to walk around a little. She made a face that definitely told me she was Russian, because when I went to the Cervejaria Trinidade because Yaari recommended it for the porco and saw they didn't have it on the menu, the Portuguese waiter smiled very understandingly when I told him I thought I had the wrong place. This Russian woman did not smile. I think she silently put a curse on me.

But back to this tourist information place. I was so full I had to walk off some of my dinner before returning to my hotel, and also I am loving Lisbon so much I wanted to write about it while it is still fresh.

And that is it. I will be back. Tomorrow I return to Madrid.