Legong Dancers Ubud Bali 1990

In 1990 I summered on Bali. Five years before the Internet. I traveled north from the surfers' mecca of Kuta Beach to the mystical village of Ubud.

My grandaunt Marion had traveled to the Orient and brought back a small carved mahogany bust of a delicate Balinese dancer. My aunt passed in 1959. The bust became mine. I dreamed on Bali ever since.

Here I was. Almost forty years later. My simple windowless bungalow overlooked a deep ravine at which families bathed afore sunset with verdant rice paddies stretching miles to a horizon of dormant volcanoes. My days were simple. Toast and coffee from the landlord's second son, Made. Writing on a manual typewriter. Countless typos. An inexpensive Lunch of nasi goreng or fried rice with chicken at the Jalan Raya Ubud market. Dirt underfoot. Shade from the hot sun. A cold Bintang beer. $3 plus tip. Saya Suka Bali. After lunch a short stroll to watch the guru tari or teacher instruct young dancers practice the exquisitely elegant Legong ballet accompanied by a lilting gamelan tape.

I sat in the shades of the temple observing the centuries old choreographed ritual steps and gestures. Despite the increasing numbers of tourists Ubud retained its hold on eternity and I was blessed to hear the wondrous gamelan music floating over the rice. I thought of Aunt Marion, wishing she were with me. I guess she was.

Somewhere in my storage awaits the Balinese statute.