Chapter 77

           

           Inthemorning,Mariohelpsmebuyabicycle.Likeaproperalmost-Italian,hesays,"Iknowaguy,"andhetakesmetohiscousin’sshop,whereIgetanicemountainbike,ahelmet,alockandabasketforslightlylessthanfiftyAmericandollars.NowI’mmobileinmynewtownofUbud,oratleastasmobileasIcansafelyfeelontheseroads,whicharenarrowandwindingandbadlymaintainedandcrowdedwithmotorcycles,trucksandtouristbuses.

           Intheafternoon,IridemybikedownintoKetut’svillage,tohangoutwithmymedicinemanforourfirstdayof…whateveritiswe’regoingtobedoingtogether.I’mnotsure,tobehonest.Englishlessons?Meditationlessons?Goodold-fashionedporch-sitting?Idon’tknowwhatKetuthasinmindforme,butI’mjusthappytobeinvitedintohislife.

           He’sgotguestswhenIarrive.It’sasmallfamilyofruralBalinesewhohavebroughttheirone-year-olddaughtertoKetutforhelp.Thepoorlittlebabyisteethingandhasbeencryingforseveralnights.Dadisahandsomeyoungmaninasarong;hehasthemuscularcalvesofaSovietwarhero’sstatue.Momisprettyandshy,lookingatmefromwaybelowhertimidlyloweredeyelids.TheyhavebroughtatinyofferingtoKetutforhisservices-2,000rupiah,whichisabout25cents,placedinahandmadebasketofpalmfronds,slightlybiggerthanahotelbar’sashtray.Thereisoneflowerblossominthebasket,alongwiththemoneyandafewgrainsofrice.

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