Last night, I took Mom to a production of Tartuffe at The Boy's school. It was an excellent play. I loved the costumes. After, I overheard one parent tell another, "I go to Niagara-On-The-Lake every year, and I honestly think these kids are better."
I know what he meant. Sometimes, professional actors let real life get in the way of their characters. These kids, those who get into character, are consumed by their characters. And if their untroubled lives enter the character, it's their personality that seeps into the character, adding a charm and delight that only kids can bring.
In the hallway after the show, I witnessed a most charming exchange of camaraderie. The Boy, Butterfly Boy, Butterfly Girl (Butterfly Boy's girlfriend) and I were standing in the hall. Mom was already waiting in the car. A student walked by with a bucket of long-stem roses, individually wrapped. They were to be given to each student who took part in the play, including those in the pit orchestra, which is where The Boy came in.
As the student walked by, The Boy stopped her and said, "I'd like to have mine now." The student gave a rose to him. He took the flower, hovered with Butterfly Boy in front of Butterfly Girl and me, and whispered, "Give this to Butterfly Girl, give this to Butterfly Girl."
Butterfly Boy said, "Huh?"
"Give your girlfriend a rose."
"Oh."
"Wait. Mom, would you like this rose?"
"No thanks."
"Would Pau-Pau like it?"
"No."
He took Butterfly Boy's arm again and whispered, "Give this to Butterfly Girl."
Butterfly Boy took the rose and gave it to Butterfly Girl, kissing her gently on the hand.
The Boy said, "Aww, Butterfly Boy gave you a rose."
Butterfly Girl laughed, "Thank you. But Boy, could you hold it till we get outside? I don't want people to think I stole a flower from Mainstage." So she gave The Boy the rose back. That's when I left them to sort it out.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Fields
A road we travelled to get to the top of a mountain so we could look down at the terraced rice fields.
Boys we saw in a village on the way up.
We stopped halfway to admire the view.
And an altar of course tucked in where the views were.
That's a volcano touching the clouds.
The spectacular rice fields
Palm trees and a village amidst the fields.
Some fields were ready for harvest.
Village women on their way to work in the rice fields. The fields belong to wealthy landowners or companies that export rice. We were told these women work for rice. For every eight bags they harvest, they keep one.
Umbrellas and hats provide some shade in the scorching sun. Rice harvesting is consider easier work. The hard work of ditch digging and construction is reserved for the men.
On the way down the mountain, we saw some men planting rice crop, one plant at a time.
Boys we saw in a village on the way up.
We stopped halfway to admire the view.
And an altar of course tucked in where the views were.
That's a volcano touching the clouds.
The spectacular rice fields
Palm trees and a village amidst the fields.
Some fields were ready for harvest.
Village women on their way to work in the rice fields. The fields belong to wealthy landowners or companies that export rice. We were told these women work for rice. For every eight bags they harvest, they keep one.
Umbrellas and hats provide some shade in the scorching sun. Rice harvesting is consider easier work. The hard work of ditch digging and construction is reserved for the men.
On the way down the mountain, we saw some men planting rice crop, one plant at a time.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Waters
The Indian ocean is a 2 minute walk from our hotel in Bali. You walk along the beach for 10 minutes to get to the busier part where the vendors, restaurants, and surfing school are. We sat at a restaurant and watched the waves roll in and surfers trying to conquer the water.
The Man tried to surf.
Put on a surfing shirt, get a longer board, and The Man got up.
Looking down at Uluwata Beach. There were no surfers at the beach that day, just monkeys and hawkers.
Our catamaran for dolphin watching.
A sea of catamarans.
And there they are, the elusive and camera-shy dolphins.
We walked down this path, through the jungle to get to the Munduk Fall.
On the way in, we met forest dwellers. Their houses are tucked in the forest, off the path. They grow their own food as well as harvest from nature's bounty in the forest.
Because people live in the forest near the waterfall, the forest is well-maintained.
Through the foliage and rocks, we come to the waterfall.
I am ankle deep (yellow pants) in the pool where the water collects. The pool leads to a stream that runs through the forest.
Two views of the hot springs bath we visited. The water is warmed by the nearby volcano it passes.
Of course there is an altar at the hot springs.
The Twin Falls, the second waterfall we visited. One of the twins comes from a hot spring.
The current was so strong, I could not get closer to the bottom of the falls by swimming. Maybe a stronger swimmer could have done it.
View of the beach and sunset from our table at La Lucciola restaurant.
The Man tried to surf.
Put on a surfing shirt, get a longer board, and The Man got up.
Looking down at Uluwata Beach. There were no surfers at the beach that day, just monkeys and hawkers.
Our catamaran for dolphin watching.
A sea of catamarans.
And there they are, the elusive and camera-shy dolphins.
We walked down this path, through the jungle to get to the Munduk Fall.
On the way in, we met forest dwellers. Their houses are tucked in the forest, off the path. They grow their own food as well as harvest from nature's bounty in the forest.
Because people live in the forest near the waterfall, the forest is well-maintained.
Through the foliage and rocks, we come to the waterfall.
I am ankle deep (yellow pants) in the pool where the water collects. The pool leads to a stream that runs through the forest.
Two views of the hot springs bath we visited. The water is warmed by the nearby volcano it passes.
Of course there is an altar at the hot springs.
The Twin Falls, the second waterfall we visited. One of the twins comes from a hot spring.
The current was so strong, I could not get closer to the bottom of the falls by swimming. Maybe a stronger swimmer could have done it.
View of the beach and sunset from our table at La Lucciola restaurant.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Monkeys
It's pathetic that even with an idiot-proof digital camera, we churn out so many blurry photographs. It's even more weak that I can't download properly and managed to delete half my photographs in the process.
So today, I am going to post monkey pictures. Most of these pictures are from the Monkey Forest in Ubud.
This is the god guarding the entrance to the Monkey Forest.
You see why it's called Monkey Forest. Monkeys are everywhere.
There was a little scuffle when two monkeys tried to grab a baby from each other.
Monkeys doing monkey things.
Boy monkey.
Girl monkey.
The Man and monkey pretending to ignore each other.
A monkey not letting me ignore him.
These are the mothers and babies I met on the way to Uluwata Beach.
And finally, a man in a sarong.
A man with a monkey on his back.
What's the point of the above men? Sis' Fiance suggested that one might wear a sporran with a sarong to give it that quality of metrosexual chic. I don't know... I think one should respect the costume of a people. That's the Balinese way. The foreigner then should combine the best elements of the host culture in his dress. So what should one wear with a sarong? A monkey of course.
So today, I am going to post monkey pictures. Most of these pictures are from the Monkey Forest in Ubud.
This is the god guarding the entrance to the Monkey Forest.
You see why it's called Monkey Forest. Monkeys are everywhere.
There was a little scuffle when two monkeys tried to grab a baby from each other.
Monkeys doing monkey things.
Boy monkey.
Girl monkey.
The Man and monkey pretending to ignore each other.
A monkey not letting me ignore him.
These are the mothers and babies I met on the way to Uluwata Beach.
And finally, a man in a sarong.
A man with a monkey on his back.
What's the point of the above men? Sis' Fiance suggested that one might wear a sporran with a sarong to give it that quality of metrosexual chic. I don't know... I think one should respect the costume of a people. That's the Balinese way. The foreigner then should combine the best elements of the host culture in his dress. So what should one wear with a sarong? A monkey of course.
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