Sunday

I had a late night on Saturday but still woke up early enough to take a run on the beach. Then I decided to try to some surfside yoga. I rented a chaise lounge cushion from one of the vendors (5000 rp.) I plopped my provisional yoga mat in what I thought would be a relatively solitary spot. After only a few poses, I could feel several sets of eyes on me. I turned around and saw three local guys sitting on the wall behind me. They were perfectly positioned for an excellent view of my ass in "downward dog" (for non yogis: this is a very common pose that requires you to be are on all fours, fully elongating your arms and legs so your butt is lifted high in the air).

I was irritated and told them so. "Mengapa duduk di sini," I said, "Saya mau sendiri." Why did you sit there? I want to be alone. "If you want to be alone, go to your hotel room," one of shot back in English. Well, he had a point. Seminyak beach is not the place to go in search of privacy. Of course, in Indonesian culture privacy is a foreign concept and solitude an undesirable state.

So I decided not to make a fuss and stayed where I was. I continued my modified practice, sans downward dog or any other ass extending pose.

Eventually they left. When I was finished I took a long blissful shivasana and rinsed off in the ocean. Then I meditated with the crashing waves as a soothing rhythmic backdrop. I was in no rush, as I didn't have an appointment for several hours. It was a nice feeling just to sit on the beach, listening to the waves with nothing pressing to do.

When I got home Putu prepared me a breakfast of oatmeal with almonds, bananas and honey. As we began to discuss a grocery list, I suddenly got the radical idea that we should make something from a cookbook. I’m sorry -- did I say “we”. No, of course I didn’t mean that. I never cook in Bali! We (the “royal we”) decided that Putu would make something from a cookbook.

You see I have a little problem in that I eat the same thing every day. I am very happy eating fruit in the morning and salad for lunch. That said I think my body is crying out for some variety. Considering I have my beloved Putu to make me anything I desire, it's a bit silly that I have this monotonous routine. So we skimmed the pages of J’s enormous vegetarian cookbook, quickly settling on a “spicy lentil coconut soup.” I figured it was a good choice as it was simple to prepare and required ingredients Putu is familiar with (chiles, coconut milk, lemongrass). Armed with her list, Putu went off the market to get the necessary ingredients and I... well, I took off for a surfing lesson with the full confidence that she would do a great job.

Since it was Sunday afternoon, this lesson felt a lot different than the ones I take in the morning when the beach is relatively quiet. Legian beach is crowded on Sundays and it has a mildly carnivelesque atmosphere that reminds me of Ipanema (without all those Brazilian thongs). At first I thought the crowds would intimidate me, but it’s actually more fun. Ok, so you have to be careful you don’t run into other surfers or children on boogie boards. But space management skills are a part of surfing anyway, so you gotta learn ‘em. During this lesson I managed not to hit anyone and got better at PADDLING HARDER and catching my own waves. By the end, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t pull myself up anymore. I imagine it’s just a matter of time before I build up the strength and stamina in my shoulders and arms.

Marcy says that I’m at the stage where I should start going out by myself and practicing. As they say here: "Pelan, pelan" (slowly, slowly)

After the lesson, I rinsed off at Marcy’s place and went back down to the beach for a quick pedicure. I crashed in a lounge chair (10,000 rp) by the shore line and happily people-watched as “Debby” (Bali name: Ketut) gave me a pedicure (20,000 rp). Mid-peddie, I decided that a massage would be the perfect way to end the day. So I called over to Callego, a massage place on Callego Beach that caters to gay men, and booked a reservation for 5. After 10 minutes drying time, my pink toes and I jumped on my motorbike and scooted over. When I arrived, Callego’s café was chock-a-block with hot guys with shiny hairless chests that gleamed in the light of the golden hour. I didn’t stop to contemplate what I couldn’t have. I moved quickly to the curtained massage area and stripped to my bikini. I lay down on my stomach and welcomed a pair of warm male hands (90,000 rp. plus 10,000 rp tip). Soon I fell into a blissful and oily revery while the sun set and the waves crashed.

Later that evening, I dined on Putu’s spicy coconut lentil soup. It was heaven.