thePlace

I love the roaring Pacific Ocean, the smell of the open ocean, a medley of concentrated salt and wild wind, the determined snowy plovers with their robotic little legs chasing the waves frenzily, the gulls hovering like 2-leged winged helicopters…. The sight of the rolling high waves pounding the shore calms me infinitely, there is an intimacy that tugs me gently towards it - thoughts unthink, time stops, everything is just the way it should be.

I think of a smaller ocean, the Java/Bali Sea – except for a raging storm in the middle of monsoon, there are no pounding waves, only lapping whispering waves, a steady susurration. A small ocean I can’t get intimate with unless I am in it, a part of it – diving deep under pretending to be a sea creature in its womb. It is while partaking in the mystery down under, that a small ocean gives me another kind of intimacy that brings bliss.

This evening I walked passed a carcass of a dead sea lion or seal. No longer recognizable, head melted into the skin, maggot swarming – slowing devouring the brain. It was captivating. I thought of a human body.

The sun has moved across the sky casting the sky orange, sprinkles glittering silver on the unknowable surging swells. As it sinks slowly down the horizon, the lights drag out a singular golden dancing column traversing the darkening ocean. Another gleaming setting sun reflected and sparkles on the wet black silvery sand, tousled foam white and gray at the shore. The air grows colder, more damp. Low clouds spread from the horizon and curdled into little lumps spreading in. A few surfers reluctantly moving out of the water leaving the beloved to a next auspicious day.

For a short time, the open-roaring Pacific Ocean is no longer just a Memory 10 months out of 12; it has grown robust and alive – like a fruit in season, every season while I am passing through SF. I seek it out; my eyes are drawn to the foaming and raging Ocean whenever possible. So I walk the beach as often as I can – at times braving the cold howling wind with whipping sands, swirling fog and numbing drizzle. I walk on the soft sand – about 20 feet away, not on harder easier ground next to the foaming zigzagging line brought by the uninterrupted advancing and receding waves.

Soft sand feels good under the feet, a workout; and with this Beach, it is just the right distance to have a larger view of the Ocean.

The right distance for the heart to zoom with the thundering waves.

The right distance to take in the energy and return it undigested.

It must be this roaring Ocean with the foggy city that make people leave their hearts in SF. Imagine SF without the Open Ocean, no heart stays behind - a sacrilege indeed!

I have now lived at the Place for almost 8 months. Although far from claiming to know Bali as a regular denizen and still on a social visa that requires me to skip town every six months, I have grown used to the village, its customs, its idiosyncrasies, its silence formulas of courtesy (take first and complain later) and ambiguous responses. And slowly, very slowly, I am sinking in lingering roots down unto the KP Hill, into the Place - where I’m working one day at a time to make it a perfect Place to live and to share.

The Place is still going through a transformation as I work on the buildings and the garden with my new acquired family. Kadet, my part time helper that lives next door; Nyoman, the gardener that lives up the hill and Agung, the ad hoc manager, lives down the hill and is helping to finish up the buildings and supervises the cloves orchard and the garden. Besides Blackie, I have volunteered to nurse and take care of another dog, Jill, a male golden retriever. Last month 2 Balinese sapi/cows are added to the family. And Ferry, my adopted little brother who will take care of Jill and Blackie, and will house sit while I’m gone. Then there are the fish and plants that need constant attentions….

As the young second wife (she was taken as the second wife when the first one couldn’t have a son – a common Balinese practice.) Kadet has an infectious big smile and work tirelessly for the 2 families. Nova, her 4-year old boy stays with her sometimes while she cleans. Kadet is the only one that has a regular job, both her husband and the first wife take odd jobs in the neighborhood when there are available. Putu, the daughter from the first wife is out of work too and she does the offering to the spirits every evening. Besides the onions, chilies, noodles, etc that Kadet and her 2 families ‘borrow’, my motorbike is usually available for their use. I also provide water and electricity to them and allow the 2 families to use the Place to gain access to their houses next door.

Nyoman has been working with me since I bought the Place. I want him to be creative, to take pride on his works and be responsible so I make it a habit to ask for his opinions before telling him what to do with the massive garden. With his hands on his waist, he would first spit a big gob of spit sending it floating through the air; clears his throat and hesitatingly tell me what he thinks I ought to do. He is quite sensible and a hard enough worker that I tolerate his half-day requests and short breaks here and there to take care of his 2 young kids and wife.

Agung came to Bali from Java 4 years ago. He is a go-getter and his dream for early retirement often serves as an inspiration to his entrepreneurial ideas. Among his other jobs of being a driver, a contractor, etc, he raises wallets and fish. His schedule to finish the works at the Place is far from rigid – he comes with his workers whenever he is available.

I am an easy employer as long as they do a good job. I like to think that we are all one big family and take care of each other. They all have the key to the House. The fact is my house can’t really be locked securely, even if I try to. There are too many ways that one can get into the House – from the opened bathroom, any of the glass doors, downstairs, from the veranda….

The dogs are my constant amusers. Their very different natures and subtleties have taught me much patience and through them I have learned to commit myself, and to love unconditionally. Jill is essentially a house dog and stays by me all day long. He eats like a horse and demands to be caressed whenever he finds my idling hands. He often has a loving odd look about him – as though he is constantly surprised. Blackie is a wild one compares to Jill’s gentle nature. Blackie acts like the king of the neighborhood, he visits friends, disappears for the whole afternoon until he gets hungry. I have reports that he explores like a pioneer – up the hill, into the jungle and down the river. He is fearless and definitely a spirited outdoor dog. As much as I like to, I have stopped trying to make him a house dog long ago. I have learned to love him enough to let him be himself He still chews up my sandals – the last one was the 5th pairs and I have given up buying them. My Teva has to go for a surgery because he chewed up the strap; the new expensive shoes Monroe bought me from SF have gone strapless and looked like I picked them up from a garbage can.

It took Blackie and Jill a couple of days to get used to each other, now they cleans each others and play up a storm every morning. Blackie sleeps with him in the veranda now but he still scratches the door in an attempt to wake me up to give them food. The down side is, now Jill has picked up Blackie’s bad habit of begging for food.

Above all, I realize now as a householder and a mini-farmer wannabe in a village, it is impossible to not kill. In the beginning it bothered me immensely when I see Kadek kills a horde of ants or an insect from the table – a slight pang of guilt would took hold of me as I looked away. I couldn’t help feeling vicariously responsible as her employer. Am I offsetting the balance of nature by invading their space, that they have as much right to survive as I do, is there a more compassionate way to deal with pests…? All these nagged my conscience for months. I even thought of writing to someone for advice or for a suitable mantra to ease the turning of the karma wheel for killing a living thing. Later, as I watched the deceased plants screaming for help and the dogs scratching their bodies mercilessly; I took actions for their wellbeing. So as their keeper, now I am using organic Neem oil spray to get rid of damaging bugs and allow Agung to use more potent spray to discourage the termite from eating up the House. As I shamelessly pick and kill a flea off of Blackie or Jill, I just mutter a mantra.

As I now immerse myself in fully living the life of a simple householder and not as a bystander of my former years, I ride with the flow of life as it presents itself and surrender to it as it meanders. I no longer dwell in the actions and interpret them based on my preconceived ideas of right or wrong. The universe has its means of communication and expression, and I am here to learn to be, not to judge, and especially, not to run away from it.

Living up here where there is plenty of sky and space has helped create in me a basic attitude, a kind of openness and receptivity both to inward and outer experience, and beyond that, a capacity for letting go of my old beliefs, my sense of justifications and my control. I go with the flow and dwell in the present.

I think of the title of a novel by Georges Perec: Life: A User’s Manual.

This morning I awoke to a patch of gray. There was no horizon. Just an endless, formless wide expanse of living gray - the sea and the sky were flowing in union. For a long while, the sea merged into the sky; veiled by the lingering timorous thin air - evanescent and unpredictable.

I leaned up against the bed, feeling the cool morning air; lost in the celebrated morning. It was so quiet; I could almost hear the steady susurration of the Bali Sea way below. Gentle shafts of sunlight began coloring the space, soon the union began to glow and shimmer. Slowly the sky turned to whitish blue while the grayness of the sea deepened into a darker hue. The horizon reappeared.

Still gazing out, I drank the aromatic invigorating tea that Kadet brought me – a concoction of lemon grass, tulasi (basil family from India) and temulawak (ginger family, indigenous to Indonesia), all home grown. I moved to the hanging bale in the veranda and let the sky wrapped me up, watching the wind. Patches of brown spots dapple among a wide expanse of living verdure below the KP hill – it’s the middle of the dry season.

It’s a season when the relax pace of life slows down to a crawl up on the hill of Kayu Putih. Except during the rainy season, for lack of well water from the low land and spring water from the upper hill, the KP mid hill has a lot of dry burnt land. Wild grasses wilt and one plant anything. It’s the time villagers sell their cattle when finding cattle food becomes too laborious. So I bought the Place a pair of cattle – Tom and Su-san. They are both beautiful with delicate features, slender necks and trim bodies. I need them for their dunks and as a small investment to help the villagers to get some income when they are sold – as the keepers, they get 50% of the profit.

I have resumed the work at the Place – finishing the works in the garden and the final works at the cottages. The office/reception at the end of the driveway will be the last to be completed. Then the paving of the driveway, repairing of the fish pond below, the garden retention walls, more grass to be planted, trees….. Agung has brought his 4 workers and is doing a great job cleaning up the chaos Made left.

Still, things are moving and growing very slowly during the dry season.

The flow of the spring water from the hill above is much reduced and at times non-existence for the whole night. Although there is plenty of water for one person, the water situation is grim for keeping an entire hector of land green. I have an unconditional and indefinite usage of the water with Pak Totok, the seller who lives in Java. I also have a signed agreement with him to build a cover and filter to protect the source of the spring. I already paid to replace the old flimsy plastic pipes but nothing is being done at the source because there is a dispute between Pak Totok and the previous owner that has the land adjacent to the spring source. It’s a complicated issue and on my end, I have tried all means to solve it to no avail. Naturally the cement, cement blocks and sand that I paid for have all gone missing from the site.

To add to the problem, Pak Totok’s promised half of the payment has been conveniently put off – citing sickness, earthquake (his shop was hit in the last quake in Java), bad business, police problem…. He also keeps postponing his trip up the hill to settle the issue, and I’m left waiting on the side line, dealing with the water problem.

This morning I sent a team of people to investigate, to trace the pipeline and to clean up the spring water source. When they returned, I was surprised to hear that I’m also providing water to 3 or more other households along the way. They just cut the pipes and fit theirs onto it. The worse part is they put an L-bend on mine so that the meager flow of the water is almost entirely diverted to their pipes. None of them asked for permission. So I asked Agung to explain that although it is alright for them to get some water for household use, they shouldn’t do it in a way that I don’t get any water. Agung (based on his experiences) insisted that it is no use telling them, that they are not capable of thinking for others, nor have the courtesy to ask for permission. He emphatically added that the villagers have zero EQ.

I made Agung do it anyway and I called on one of them to explain how we can all be happy if we are a little considerate of other people’s needs and that I don’t mind paying for the maintenance of the pipes and water but I do need them to be responsible users.
I strongly believe if the distribution of the spring water is properly done and managed, it would be sufficient for all of us.

Well, the track record so far, a couple of them have tried to extort money from me and others have tried other crafty schemes…and why not, if they can get away from it. The point is I have faith in the village people of Bali and in the goodness of the people around me.

After all, my world is created by my thoughts.