Photos - Week 1

The following photos have been posted in reverse order... the last few are from the Tjampuhan Hotel, where I stayed at the first three nights in Ubud. The Tjampuhan Hotel is the oldest hotel in Ubud (built in 1928), and the location of the Walter Spies house. The first several photos were taken at the Monkey Forest where I went on day two, with my cousin Murray and her (and now my) friends Lori and Mark from California.


Sarongs are required to enter temple grounds.


I'm continually awed by the carvings here. Everywhere you turn.. there's artistic detail, a respect for ceremony and tradition, and a prioritization of beauty and creativity.


At a temple within the Monkey Forest: PLEASE DO NOT STEP UP TO THESE.


They don't call it Monkey Forest for nothin'. You don't bring food in, you don't wear anything shiney -- or a monkey will climb you looking for a snack.


In the Monkey Forest, lovin' the zoom lens and auto-focus feature of the Olympus.


On the rail of my patio, a guest.


Facing the door of Pura 2, outside.


Welcome Home: Tjampuhan Hotel, Pura 2.

No Matter Where You Go...

Hello from HKO. It's March 10th, about 8:00 am here...

Before I left for DIA on the evening of the 8th, I got a call from my friend Ed. He called to wish me well on my journey and to remind me that "no matter where you go, there you are." Right.

My flight out of DEN was delayed over an hour. I had been counting on a decent layover in SFO to get from the Frontier Airlines arrival gate to the International Terminal, to check-in at the Cathay Pacific desk, get through another security checkpoint, get to my gate and board a big 747.

I got to SFO with less than an hour before my flight to Hong Kong. It was about 12:30 am (on the 9th, which I think was yesterday... or yesterday here) when I made my solo run across terminals with my heavy carry-on over my shoulder. Note to self... next time: wheels.

Running through this huge, vacant, spaceship of an airport -- no one around but a few bored vacuum pushers -- I started to laugh. Ed's reminder the day before had sifted to the top of my thoughts. There I was, all my myself. There I was, running toward unfamiliar territory. I was never so happy that in the unfamiliar places to come, I would be there. I was happy to know that the resources and abilities I've built and been blessed with would be there, too.

Previously, I'd thought of the "no matter where you go" sentiment to be more of a warning. How refreshing (and ironic) to realize a comforting, positive spin.

I had a realization in the car with kind driver Betsy on the way from my house in Denver to DIA, that I was hurling myself across the world, and would not be near anything I knew for a full month. Literally nothing would be familiar to me: weather, food, music, language, customs, transportation, smells, time-zones, etiquitte, flora, fauna, etc.

At least I know that no matter where I go, I will be there. That's nice.

Monkeys

I combed through countless websites in my search for a place to stay in Ubud throughout my near month-long stay in Bali. I sent emails off to "innkeepers" of bungalows, villas, hotels and homestays. I would generally get responses the next morning, emails that were sent to me the night before. The concepts of "real time" or "same day" are blurred when you're connecting with people a half a world away.

My favorite email came about a week ago, from Emile H Snellen v Vollenhoven. In his email Emile told me, "we have a very nice house and cheap for 1 or two persons. BUT there are monkeys. The monkeys are coming sitting on the roof sometimes in the garden. When you are not afraid, when you like monkeys when you don’t feed them and send them away it is a really nice place."

I kindly passed on the Monkey House, but several times since hearing from Emile, I’ve remembered his last comment. I find his advice poetically applicable these days.

There are monkeys everywhere: things, issues or concerns that bother and scare us. The trick may be, as Emile suggests, to not to be afraid, to not feed them, to like them (or at least find opportunities in, or despite of, their presence) and to not attempt to send them away. By making peace with your monkeys, by challenging yourself to understand them, you may live more fully.

On Sunday, I’ll throw my monkeys on my back and continue my journey to Bali.

(Incidentally, not only Emile H. Snellen v Vollenhoven an owner of a boutique hotel and manager of rental homes in Ubud, he is a Dutch Indo Artist living there. To see some of his work, check out http://www.dutchartist.nl/)

Welcome Back

About a year ago, I sold an old Nikon F3 that I purchased used over 10 years ago. It hadn't seen the light of day for many years; I had long forgotten how to load film, calibrate settings, etc. and frankly I needed the cash.

This old manual camera was a work horse. It helped me make a living as a freelance writer/photographer when I first moved to Denver in 1997. Thanks to my business partner at the time, Eric Grant, I learned quickly how to handle a camera, frame shots -- and yes, how to maneuver around cattle in a Northeast Colorado feedlot.

I loved being behind that camera, where every moment challenged me to picture what was interesting, beautiful, meaningful before me. I literally felt and moved using another part of my brain. With this camera, I checked-out and checked-in at the same time.

Selling that camera was difficult. I felt a profound appreciation for it; it had opened many doors, both inside and outside of myself. I felt ashamed of myself in letting it go. Its sale was a painful example of my lack of attention to my creative self. In the name of more "practical," lucrative pursuits, I had let go of one of my greatest gifts.

This past Sunday (after plenty of research, of course) I bought an Olympus E-420 digital SLR camera: the smallest SLR on the market today, a relatively inexpensive, popular and well-regarded piece of equipment. I understand the appeal of portable, less expensive point-and-shoot cameras, but I needed a camera that I could engage, and one that would engage me. I wanted a camera I could build a relationship with, in a way. A tool to help me show how I feel about what I see. I wanted to go to Bali and beyond with a real camera in my hands again.

I've been playing with the E-420 over the past few days. Welcome back playful, creative self... thank you for the joy you bring me.

Insurance

After some web-based research, I paid a visit to my doctor on Monday to get her advice about which vaccinations I should get prior to my trip. A faithful follower of the CDC (Center of Disease Control) guidelines, she suggested I get up to date on vaccines for routine concerns such as polio, diphtheria, measles and tetanus. Recommendations specific to the region are vaccinations for hepatitis A and B, typhoid, as well as an antimalarial drug, a pill taken daily during your trip. Further concerns of varying degrees are avian (bird) flu, dengue and yellow fevers and rabies.

France or Sweden anyone?

Despite this alarming list of potential hazards, absolutely no vaccinations are required for entry into Bali, and many visitors go "au natural" and do just fine. So I bumped up against two life approaches that inform, generally, decisions that I make for myself: a) more and more I appreciate an holistic or naturopathic approach to self care, and being healthy and blessed with a good deal of common sense, I should do just fine... skip the cost and pain and just go, and b) let's face it, I'm a practical girl, and not a real risk-taker with my health and safety... just shoot me.

So, I got shot. And it hurt. And since the deed was done on Monday, I've been extremely achy, tired and even dizzy at times, and my left arm (site of the tetanus and hep a injections) feels like it might just have taken a bullet.

Did I make the right decision? I may never know. But as I've mentioned, when I follow instructions, when I cover my bases, when I'm organized and prepared -- I feel better about what lies before me. It may not be sexy, but it's insurance.

Foreshadowing

The pink lotus blossom is a symbol of grace and holiness in Bali.


Terraced ricefields are the dominant feature of Bali's rural landscape. Steep terrain makes mechanization difficult. The Balinese solution, which dates from as early as the 9th century AD, is an ingenious and complex network of irrigation channels, tunnels and aqueducts that divert water from sources high up in the mountains to water-sharing communities known as subak.


The Batik of Bali expresses the artistic excellence of the Balinese people. Their beautiful designs, inspired by religious mythologies to everyday encounters, spread throughout the world.


People who harvest rice (typically women) cut the stalks with a small knife concealed in their palms so as not to frighten the rice goddess.

Anticipation

After finally making the decision to book this trip, I am enjoying these days leading to March 8. I've got some lists going, appointments made, and bills pre-paid. All of this preparation eases my mind... to me, organization = peace.

In many ways this trip is liberating for me. I have often talked about wanting to travel internationally; it's made my New Year's Resolutions lists for as far back as I can remember. See the sidebar about the irony of commitment.

I trust that giving myself permission to take this journey now is a good move, despite the current state of the economy. If the economy was running on all cylinders, I couldn't, wouldn't commit to this for fear I'd lose career and money-making traction. Could there be this silver lining to the recession cloud? In other words... if not now, when?