One of my favorite expressions the Balinese say in English is “same same” which simply means “it’s the same thing.” In bahasa Indonesia (the language of Indonesia), if you want to make something plural, you simply say the word twice. Apparently this rule also applies if you want to exaggerate to say that something is REALLY large, small, etc. Naturally, when the Balinese are speaking English, they also apply this same rule resulting in things being described as “little little” or “cheap cheap.” So I guess “same same” means that things are “spot on identical.” For some reason, it’s an expression of which I’ve become quite fond.

Although Bali is considered a remote locale from the perspective of most westerners, many aspects of my daily life in Ubud are actually “same same.” Just as many, however, are “different different.” Frequently, even when doing “same same,” there are funny little nuances that make it “different different.”

Now that I'm no stranger to eating fresh chicken, this rooster who shares my yard is high on the list of my next victim!

I’ll walk you through a “day in the life” scenario to give you an idea of what I mean. Instead of being awakened by an alarm clock, crowing roosters arouse me from slumberland each morning … at 6am.  Different different.  Unfortunately, the roosters do not come equipped with a snooze button, but I usually manage to ignore them until about 7 am when I finally push the mosquito nets aside and crawl out of bed. I must confess that each morning I become more curious about whether rooster tastes just like chicken and whether I could specify the yard from which my rooster meal might come. I much prefer the gentle sounds of the little gecko who hides somewhere in my vaulted bamboo ceiling and sings me to sleep at night.

I wander to my European-style bathroom (no tub and no shower curtain) where, along with flipping the light switch, I flip a switch to turn on the water. This feature seems to be unique to this particular room. Neither of my other two guesthouses require the water to be turned on; nor do other rooms at this guesthouse so I’ve concluded that it’s because the plumbing in my sink leaks a lot if the water is not turned off entirely. For the most part, it’s not a big deal although on two occasions, even after I flipped the switch, the water refused to show itself. Again, this is unique to this particular room but I’m willing to tolerate the odd inconvenience as a trade off for the refreshing breezes on my very private balcony, particularly since the water works 95% of the time.  

view of my sink and dressing area from shower/toilet area

I brush my teeth using the tap water (same same) although I read that I should only used bottled water. Fortunately, I seem to have a cast iron stomach so I can’t be bothered. (Any of you who know me personally know that my stream-of-consciousness-type thinking causes me to often go off on tangents when I talk and never quite come back to the original topic. I have a really funny tangential story here but for the sake of staying on track, I’ll just put it in at the end of this entry. So for an authentic “Beverly experience,” skip down now and read it and then come back. Actually, I guess a REALLY authentic Beverly experience would be to skip down, read the tangent and then forget to come back to this topic. But I digress … what a surprise!)

Although I’ve run into the occasional “squat toilet” on my trip (It basically looks like the front quarter of a urinal placed on its back right in the floor.  There’s no sitting involved in using one. You simply squat and hover.), my bathroom sports a traditional western toilet.  

the infamous "water switch"

Different different - I do NOT take toilet paper for granted as I did in the US. It is not an amenity that comes with my room. It’s very cheap to buy (about $0.20 per roll) but it’s usually only sold in single rolls and so far the stores I’ve encountered only stock 1 roll at a time so I’m not able to buy in multiples to stock up. Also, the rolls that are sold here have “wide wide” cardboard centers so the roll disappears quite quickly. In 5 days at this homestay, I’ve needed to replace the roll twice … and without getting too personal, I swear that the food is not causing me to use more TP than usual. It was a major coup the other day when, at breakfast, I was delivered an unopened roll of TP in lieu of a napkin (they were out) and got permission to take the whole roll to my room! What can I say? When life becomes a little different different, you take your victories where you can find them.  

Still on the topic of TP … it’s not flushable here. Instead of tossing the used paper in the toilet, I place it in a little trash bag (the tiny plastic Wal-Mart kind) that hangs from my shower knob. Definitely different different. Trust me though, it’s not as gross as it sounds. And in defense of Bali, I must say that I had the same experience in New York (yes - New York City!) 3 years ago where my 3 star hotel’s plumbing was too old to accommodate the tissue and I was asked to place it in a small waste basket. Same same in some very upscale houses in Brazil I had the pleasure of staying in a few years back.  

Post-script: After writing this entry I fell into TP heaven when I discovered the Delta Supermarket that stocks multiples! I'm now hoarding 6 rolls!!!

So when I’m finally ready to take my shower, I must first remember to remove the precious TP from it’s perch on the toilet tank and put it on the little dressing table safe out of water’s way. Same with little trash bag that holds the used TP. Because I’ve paid a little extra for my room, I have both hot and cold water (same same) although a number of the rooms in Bali have only cold water and therefore rent for cheaper rates. I prop my legs up on my covered toilet seat to shave (an experience I also had backpacking through Europe many years ago), but other than that, the rest of the showering experience is same same. I must remember to turn off the water switch though when I finish … different different.

Getting dressed of course is also same same although, after dressing, I usually stand in an inch of water that hasn’t yet drained as I put on my makeup. Luckily I’m wearing capri pants all the time. I then dry off the top of my toilet tank as well the seat and replace my TP and the little trash bag. The Balinese are endlessly amused by the western obsession with dry bathroom floors. I must admit, I miss not having to take off my socks to walk into the bathroom, but all in all, it’s not that big an inconvenience. Just different different. Instead of hanging my damp towels to dry on a towel rack in the bathroom, I bring them out to my balcony and hang them on an all-purpose bamboo drying rack. At this point, I’m ready for breakfast. 

a typical lovely breakfast at Suartha guesthouse

In an earlier entry (“At Home in Ubud”) I wrote about the guesthouse breakfasts so I won’t repeat it here. I was never a frequent bacon-and-egg breakfast eater, but I’m missing my typical breakfast of Kashi cereal with skim milk … or at least I feel my waistline is. I have no scale and everything seems to be fitting the same but I just FEEL bigger. It’s probably all the freaking rice I’m eating. Definitely different different!

As a result, I’m going to join the gym today; particularly since I traded in my “push bike” for a motorbike this morning (which I’m told to drive “slowly slowly.”) To my surprise, there are 2 gyms in Ubud. One has the locals as its target market. It has very old and bare-bones weight machines and no cardio equipment. Still, it’s more than I expected to find here. Only men use the weights and they workout barefoot. (The Balinese usually take off their shoes before entering rooms/buildings/etc - another topic for another time). The gym offers a pilates class at $1US per class. I suspect they’re all in Balinese or Indonesian and not English. I’m concerned that I won’t understand “squeeze your buns really hard” in bahasa so I’m going to pass on this one.

the Ubud Fitness center - primarily used by expats

The expat gym is just as you would expect … everything’s newer and higher tech than the Bali gym and filled mostly with white people. It’s smaller than most gyms I’ve gone to in the US, but I also suspect there aren’t as many members so probably there’s not much of a wait to use the equipment. Unfortunately, they don’t offer yoga or pilates classes as I was hoping. The only class offered, aerobics, is at 5pm, but I prefer to workout in the morning. I’m told that I can use the aerobics room room to do my own yoga/pilates so I’ll just pack my laptop to the gym and, before hitting the cardio equipment, I’ll put the DVDs that sweet Julia Schaberg loaned me to good use. One complete side of the beautiful teak-floored aerobics room has floor to ceiling glass doors that are always open … right out into a jungle of banana and palm trees. A monthly membership for the equipment only (no classes) is about $41 US. This, of course, is comparable (slightly higher) to the price of gym memberships in the US. Since I’m living in Bali, however, where the cost of living is MUCH lower than in the US, it seems very expensive … but my health is worth it.

the lovely aerobics room at Ubud Fitness Center

Along those lines, many of you have asked me about the cost of living here. Bali and Southeast Asia in general are very inexpensive compared to the cost of living in the US.   It’s even more so for me because I’m staying long term (a month or longer is considered long term) and I’m able to negotiate much better rates for things; usually 40-60% off the already low rates. For example, I just rented a motorbike this morning for 30 days for $45!  The normal day rate is $4.5 US so I did very well on this particular deal.  (Yes, Mom and Dad, as you can see I have a helmet.)   

Putu on the ubiquitous motorbike

Naturally, I still eat every day, but since I don’t have a kitchen, I eat all my meals out at restaurants. Although some traditional Balinese meals are eaten by hand (like the nawar I had at Nyoman’s house the other day), most Balinese use a spoon and fork to eat their meals. A slight difference, however, is that the spoon, not the fork, is the primary eating utensil. I am told that impaling food on the fork as we westerners do is considered uncouth - akin to someone impaling food with their knife in our society.

my favorite warung - as yet a secret to local tourists so I'm guarding the name!

Eating out in Ubud is definitely different different in terms of impact on the wallet. The most expensive meals in the most posh restaurants in Ubud cost only $6-7/entree. Add bottled water and tax (10% - ouch!) and you’ve got a really nice dinner for $9 per person. Wine is an additional $4 per glass (I haven’t tried it yet, but I’m not expecting much). Those same restaurants also have plenty of good selections in the $3-5 price range. 

I’ve also discovered the warung where food is just as good but less expensive … and most of the time, tax is included. Warungs are in general more humblein appearance than restaurants and range from a hole-in-the-wall dive to beautifully lit and decorated businesses that I would have put in the “restaurant” category. For the most part, the appearance of the warung is a good indication of price and one can get a good meal for somewhere between $1.5 - $5 per person. I’m easily able to eat very well (meaning I’m full and have eaten fairly healthy - chicken or fish, veggies and rice) for around $6 per day or less. Different different.  

Warung Kacu

The things that are most expensive in Ubud, naturally, are items and services tailored toward the expat population. Only one internet cafe in town has true high speed internet where I can upload all the info and photos for this blog in about 2 hours time instead of all day. For that lovely service, I pay about $100 per month (ouch! that is certainly different different!). And of course, I’ve already discussed the comparatively high-end gym. Yoga classes also seem to be something the Balinese do not do so they are priced as high or higher than in the US as well. As a result, I’m going to use Julia’s fabulous DVDs and wait until I get to Thailand to actually take yoga classes. In general, of course, if the Balinese use it or do it, it’s cheap. If it’s purely a foreign service or item, you’ll pay out the nose.  

the warung that belongs to my friends Nyoman and Ketut

Back to our game of compare and contrast … Of course walking down the street is definitely different different here. The first obvious difference is the beautiful offerings to the gods which I see everywhere. They are made of coconut leaves and filled with many different kinds of flowers and incense. The incense and flowers perfume the streets here easily making Ubud the best-smelling outdoors I’ve ever experienced. I’m working on an entry that goes into depth about offerings so I’ll just leave it at that for now. Another difference is the architecture. This topic probably also deserves its own entry when I learn enough to do so. Suffice it to say for now that elaborate stone carvings promulgate the streets. Many are fierce looking demons at the entrances to homes and inexplicably seem to serve the dual roles of sentries guarding family secrets and keeping out evil spirits while simultaneously serving as a welcoming committee straight out of the Addams Family.

monsterish stone carving

Instead of being filled with cars, the streets in Bali are overflowing with motorbikes. I’m constantly amazed at how much the Balinese can fit on a motorbike. The other day, I saw 4 people riding one bike! Three people on one bike is such a common occurrence I don’t even pay attention anymore. And it’s not at all unusual to see people on motorbikes carrying cargo that should require a small pickup to transport. Different different.

 Many of these motorbike drivers don’t have driving licenses. The other day, I had to laugh at the very comical sight of 300+ drivers pulled over to the side of the road at the top of a hill in groups of 30 or so. Word had spread that a policeman had stationed himself at the bottom of the hill stopping drivers at random to check for licenses. The unlicensed drivers were apparently waiting him out, but were victims of numerous heckles from their licensed friends who whizzed on by.

the parking lot in front of Delta Supermarket

As I walk around Ubud, the friendly Balinese always ask me “Mau ke mana?” which means “Where are you going?” At first, I thought they really wanted to know and would bore them with a litany of my plans for the day. As it turns out, the Balinese are not the nosy people that “Mau ke mana?” would imply. “Where are you going?” to the Balinese is like “how are you doing?” to us westerners. They no more want to hear my plans for the day than I want to hear about your toothache. “Mau ke mana?” is merely something the Balinese say to make a social contact with someone walking by. I recently learned that the appropriate response is “jalan-jalan” … “walking walking.”

As I’m walking walking, I say hello to people I pass - I am a Southerner after all!  With some exceptions, the women are shy and giggle when I speak to them. They hide their beautiful smiles behind their hands and apologize for their English - which is usually quite good despite their objections to the contrary. The Balinese men, however, are more outgoing. As a result, I’m now “married for 5 years” to a husband who’s back in the States for some mysterious reason I have yet to invent. As the typical response to this is “Oh! Then you need Bali boyfriend” I’m thinking of throwing 5 kids into the mix. I’m starting a “name my husband” contest beginning now! Anyone care to volunteer photos of their kids I could claim as my own??!!

fried chicken feet

My guesthouse has 4 bungalows for rent and I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know a very funny Canadian girl and a pleasant Kiwi from New Zealand who stay in two of them. A French couple stayed two nights in the bungalow below me, but they didn’t speak to any of us. (I’m simply reporting!) Lindsay, the Canadian, had been traveling for almost a year and she was jonesing for a taste of the west. I discovered the other day that movies not yet released for DVD can be purchased in Ubud for about $1.50 US - cheaper than we can rent them back home … when they finally are released! So I obtained 3 movies (note to any customs officials and piracy police that happen to be reading my blog that I did not use the word “bought”) and held a cinema party for Lindsay and a couple of my new Balinese friends featuring “The Love Guru” on my balcony (befriending a tech addict who’s stupid enough to lug a wide-screen laptop throughout Southeast Asia definitely has its perks!). Although I was happy to accommodate Lindsay’s need for a fix, I had only been in SEA for a week and felt guilty indulging in pure westernization this soon so I added the Indonesian twist of fried chicken feet in lieu of popcorn (tastes like fried pork skins). Same same; different different. Even my Balinese friends who had introduced me to the snack passed.  

my beloved balcony at Suartha homestay ... best breezes in Ubud and a fabulous location for entertaining

 When I’m not hosting movie parties or attending amazing Balinese dance performances, I usually spend my evenings after dinner at the internet cafe checking email and updating the blog. I’ve discovered that it’s best if I finish by about 10:30 pm if I’m planning to walk the 7 blocks back to my guesthouse. As night falls and businesses shut down, the streets in Ubud empty and are taken over by gangs. These are not the gangs you’re likely thinking of. The scary gangs I fear are comprised of street dogs. During the day, the mangy Balinese street dogs are often downright timid. They usually wander around alone or just curl up in a doorway or on the sidewalk. They never make eye contact and obviously fear motorbikes. At night, as the town surrenders the streets to them though, it’s truly a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde situation as I discovered to my horror two nights ago. 

Lester's look-a-like ... obviously in innocent looking Dr. Jekyll mode. Don't be fooled!

I was having a particularly difficult time getting some video footage uploaded to the website and ended up staying at the internet cafe until 12:30 am (for the convenience of all expats and tourists, it’s open 24/7). While I wouldn’t exactly describe Ubud as a sleepy little town, I definitely feel safe here and wasn’t a bit worried about walking home by myself so late … until I met Lester.

The streets were empty when I left the cafe just after midnight except for the odd motorbike … and an army of street dogs. At first I just noticed that the dogs were more active than in the day. They were roaming the streets a little faster, congregating in groups and enjoying more butt-sniffing than I had witnessed in the daylight. Several actually made eye contact with me as I walked by. Hmmm - forget the US! This was different different by Ubud standards! So I picked up my pace and told myself not to emit vibes of fear. After all, I love animals and they love me.

I turned onto my street and within a block I ran into Lester and his gang of 6 stooges. They were standing in a group on the far side of the street already growling among themselves. One of the stooges was whimpering and limping. Normally I would guess he’d had a bad run-in with a motorbike (likely tourist driven) but the way this gang was carrying on I thought it equally plausible that Lester had smacked him around a bit. I didn’t stop to find out. I hugged my laptop to my chest and picked up my already brisk pace. Lester tore himself from his cronies and ran to the middle of the street where he met my eye and glared at me. He let out a low growl that said, “Tourist, this is my turf. Get out.”

Balinese street dog

I’m slowly picking up bahasa Indonesia, but there are still many many words I don’t understand. I must have studied bahasa Balinese dog in a past life, however, because I understood every syllable that Lester uttered. Underestimating my linguistic abilities, Lester started barking at me, “Get off my turf NOW or I will bite your ass! Sniffing is for wimps like my stooges here!”

My favorite dog in Ubud ... at least during the day. At night I'm sure he gets just as mean as the others ... understandable for a dog wearing a bell. How embarrassing!

As in almost any situation where there’s linguistic confusion, the speaker will inevitably speak LOUDER thinking that in doing so, the foreign language will become clear as crystal to the listener. True to form, still thinking I didn’t understand, Lester’s cronies took up the cry magnifying the already clear message. Instead of just warning me and letting it go at that, Lester and his gang hopped up on my sidewalk and began following me, barking and growling unabated. I only had 3 blocks to go to get to Suartha Pension, my golden refuge. I wanted to run, but felt certain if I did that Lester and friends would read that as an invitation to attack. Having recently been bitten by a monkey I had already gotten my money’s worth from my tetanus and rabies shots and would not have considered a street dog bite to be a windfall.  

As in almost any situation where there’s linguistic confusion, the speaker will inevitably speak LOUDER thinking that in doing so, the foreign language will become clear as crystal to the listener. True to form, still thinking I didn’t understand, Lester’s cronies took up the cry magnifying the already clear message. Instead of just warning me and letting it go at that, Lester and his gang hopped up on my sidewalk and began following me, barking and growling unabated. I only had 3 blocks to go to get to Suartha Pension, my golden refuge. I wanted to run, but felt certain if I did that Lester and friends would read that as an invitation to attack. Having recently been bitten by a monkey I had already gotten my money’s worth from my tetanus and rabies shots and would not have considered a street dog bite to be a windfall.  

the beautiful gates of Suartha pension with their stone demon guards

I kept walking faster (still not quite running) but started to fight back verbally with Lester, uttering slurs that should have made any Balinese street dog blush. Lester, however, had apparently been around the block a time or two because he kept pace, both literally and verbally, with me the entire way to my home. I did run the last 15 feet and bolted through the elaborately carved wooden doors, slamming them behind me, leaving Lester to face the stone carved demons outside the entryway. I hoped that they recognized their role at this moment was singular - to scare the bejeezus out Lester. Fifteen minutes later, cozy in my bed, I still shivered as I heard the street dogs howling, “Putu, we know your name and now we know where you live.” But now that I have my motorbike, Lester needs to look out! Definitely different different.

. . .

Tangent … (from 5 hours ago when I was talking about using tap water to brush my teeth) … Care to jump with me from the South Pacific to South America? Five years ago, 2 days after I quit practicing law, I moved to San Miguel de Allende (SMA), Mexico where I lived for four months. I had visited SMA before but it was a short vacation during which I stayed at a 5 star B&B and ate exclusively at high end restaurants so I had no worries about “Montezuma’s revenge.”

When I moved to SMA though, I was cooking for myself and had been warned repeatedly to wash everything thoroughly in a sink full of water and a tablespoon of bleach. And most importantly, they said, don’t drink the water or even use it to brush your teeth. The hard and fast rule was bottled water only.

I was doing just fine with this for the first week, but one night I stayed out too late with my friends and had too many margaritas. The next morning, suffering from a hangover, I dragged myself to the bathroom still only half awake. I started my morning routine: use the bathroom, wash my face, brush my teeth … all in tremendously slow motion. Halfway through brushing my teeth I realized with horror that I had used water straight from the tap. I was definitely awake now. I just knew that I had to sanitize my mouth and in my fear, all rational thoughts fled straight out of that gaping hole below my nose. Logical thoughts like using mouthwash or even just taking a “wait and see” approach were lost in my panic. The only thought that presented itself to me was that bleach makes vegetables safe.

I raced downstairs to my kitchen and grabbed the bleach from under the counter. I poured what was probably 1/4 cup into a glass and topped the glass off with bottled water. Thoughts that didn’t go through my head:

      - It only takes one tablespoon of bleach to purify a whole sink full of water. 


      - Bleach can actually eat through cloth.

      - What the hell are you doing chica loca?

Congratulating myself on my brilliant solution, I turned the glass up and gargled the bleach-water. Since most of you have probably been smart enough never to have done something this stupid, I’ll save you the anguish and share my experience.

I immediately knew that I’d made a bad decision and spit it out faster than the speed of sound. In the nanosecond that the concoction was in my mouth, it burned my throat and removed a layer of enamel from my teeth. For a week after, my throat and the inside of my mouth was raw. Definitely do not try this at home no matter what.

The good news was I didn’t get Montezuma’s revenge. About two weeks into my trip, I decided I probably wouldn’t have anyway and started eating food sold by street vendors and using tap water to brush my teeth … and haven’t stopped since.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.