Bali Day 16: Meatballs and More Putu. So much Putu.

Welcome to paradise. Have you had your Typhoid vaccine?

My phone tells me that today is Father's Day. I'm spending it, quite literally, as far away from my kids as I possibly could while remaining on Earth. Not that I don't want to be with my kids - it's just that they wouldn't fit in our carry-on luggage, so...

Today was another great, lazy pool day. Before Kerri got up, I enjoyed a beautiful sunrise and saw just how busy the beach is in the early morning hours.

At first, I thought we were being attacked by pirates.

Only to be saved at the last moment by another duck herder!

Only to discover that the pirates were actually fisherman. The duck herder was still a duck herder, though, so that's nice.

I went for a walk back through the rice fields toward the main road where Wayan had taken me yesterday on his motorbike. It was a lovely walk. This rice field right next to the villa was almost ready for harvesting. Here's a 15 second video. In it, you can see a small hut, called a kubu. The farmers use them as a place to rest while planting the rice. When preparing to harvest it, they spend the day in these, scaring off birds. This farmer has installed a comically elaborate system of string, poles, and sheets of thin metal. When birds land in his field, he toots a toy horn and pulls one of dozens of strings to shake a sheet of metal near the birds to frighten them off. It's wild. This is the view over the fence, just off the driveway of our villa.

And while we're at it, I got a few more photos of the villa itself. It's not too shabby.

This is the view as soon as you enter the villa's gate. Over the fence on the left is the rice field. The building straight ahead is the garage.

To the right, the villa itself.

To the right, a road leading to the back yard and the beach.

The backyard.

The villa from the back.

More of the backyard.

The walk to the main road was a bit less than a mile and took me past all sorts of people and places.

Lush rice fields.

Less lush rice fields.

Exciting, non-standard ways to run electric lines when poles are scarce.

Buddhist statuary.

A roadside trough of ducks, obviously.

A very typical Balinese home/storefront.

Same place, other side.

Gorgeously carved doorway into a villa.

The stone home of a local. I loved the simple design of this place.

A row of luxury houses being built for locals in a rice field. These were 2 room houses - the equivalent of a cul-de-sac, littered with McMansions. These houses cost $10,000 USD and were immeasurable out of reach for most locals.

I greeted everyone I met in Balinese and was richly rewarded with smiles and conversation.
I passed one guy, who was sweeping out his warung so he could begin his long day of poisoning people with bacteria-riddled food. Balinese people are genuinely curious to get to know new people. They ask a lot of questions. Typically:

1. Where are you from?
2. Is this your first time in Bali?
3. How long will you stay?
4. Are you here with  your family?

These are pretty standard "getting to know you" questions from my limited experience. This guy went off script almost immediately after that, though. I told him we were staying at Villa Lumba Lumba at the end of the beach road.

"I live on beach road!" this guy said excitedly. "House with lemon tree in front. You know it? With lemon tree on left, not right. Mine on the left! Maybe later you stop by? We have coffee and talk. Now I have to get ready for work. Meatballs! You like meatballs?"

I smiled and said that I loved meatballs, fearing that he may take a fetid, rancid meatball from yesterday out of his pocket and offer it to me. Mercifully, he did not. I didn't see any sign of meat or refrigeration anywhere in the small space he was sweeping out. I would gleefully and peacefully starve to death before risking street food here, despite how genuinely nice the people are. They have iron gastronomic constitutions that my underdeveloped western digestion can only admire in shocked awe.

Walking back toward the villa, I saw my new friend Putu again. This isn't Putu the cook or Putu the driver. This is Putu, the random guy from the beach I met yesterday. Just so we're clear on the Putu situation. When he saw me walking and thought I was heading to the market, he offered me a ride on his scooter. It was kind, but I've had my one 2-wheeled adventure in Bali. I don't think Balinese people have a concept of "just going for a walk". They don't seem to walk for the sake of walking. Probably for very smart reasons of not wanting to be killed by traffic or sweating to death in the 275% humidity here.

When I got back to the villa, having narrowly escaped meatball poisoning, Wayan was there with the guy who was going to fix the WiFi. Wayan told me that his daughter is in the hospital with Typhus. I felt awful that he was here on his day off with a sick daughter, but he was all smiles and gracious kindness.

They fixed the WiFi and Kerri and I had potato chips and Bali Bangers in the pool for lunch because were are adults, dammit.

After lunch, we went for a walk on the beach so Kerri could look for sea glass. I'm sorry to report that it was spectacularly easy to find glass. And plastic. And cloth. And every sort of litter you can imagine. Wayan's daughter with Typhoid was in the forefront of my mind as we picked our way over the trash-covered sand. I made a game out of it. A game I called "Come to Bali with Nothing."
Here's how you play: You come to Bali with nothing. You have to survive exclusively on things you find washed up on the beach. Can you survive?

We can live like kings!

A treasure trove of possibilities in this drainage water.

Bathing suit!

Medication.

Life jacket.

Clothes.

Back scratcher?

Noodles.

Water.

Dessert.

More dessert!

Don't forget to brush after that meal.

Toothpaste. There are SO many toothpaste tubes here. All Pepsodent for some reason.

Home decôr.

Flag.

Sweatshirt.

Many of the locals believe in the healing power of the black sand. they bury themselves in the scalding sand and claim it heals them. Maybe it's all the medication dissolved in the water. What the hell do I know?

And then... WE WON THE GAME!!

We watched this guy haul about 100 feet of mesh netting out of the ocean.

It was filled with hundreds of tiny fish.

Which he dumped in the sand land left there to die.

Maybe this guy was going to get his motorbike warung and set up a shop selling Sandy Dead Fish or some other local delicacy. We could have a gourmet seafood dinner and survive in style for many many years on the trash we found on the beach each day. It was honestly heartbreaking.

As we continued our walk, another duck herder walked by, leading his quacking cargo. I have no idea where they come from or where they go, but that mystery makes the experience even more enjoyable for me. After the duck herder, we met Putu.
Again.
This is the same Putu from before; not any of the other ones.
It turns out he's a gardener at one of the other villas. Our villa is obscenely huge, but compared to the 5 or 6 others along the beach, it's a modest shack. We chatted with Putu for a few cheery moments before heading back to the villa for a dinner of leftovers dumped over cheap ramen noodles. It wasn't as fancy as the Sandy Dead Fish we could have had if Kerri wasn't always going on about basic food hygiene, but it was fine.
After dinner, we went to the upstairs deck and watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen. The sun was nearly crimson as it sank behind steely gray clouds, backlit by the glowing orange sky.

Tomorrow, we're visiting The Sleeping Buddha.