Driving on the opposite side of the road, mixed in with a sea of scooters and motorbikes, I arrived in the outside villages of Ubud feeling more upside down and unable to separate from the stress and chaos I had created in my Western life.
Edi, my Balinese driver sits on my right, calm and singing to himself he leans over and asks me my favorite song. Edi was a 30-something skater type with a Bon Jovi t-shirt, cutoffs and a Jamaican flag fanny pack warn around his shoulder. At that moment, I didn't have the energy to explain the fashion faux pas and simply answered his question with, " Anything contemporary I guess."
I could see both edges of his smile now. "I've got that!" Edi popped in a CD from his stack in the middle console.
I recognized the intro, as a child of the 80s I was instantly taken back to my youth. Wilson Philips had never sounded so clear pumping through the speakers of his minivan.
Ubud was a maze to me, zipping in and out of little dirt road allies to avoid the parade of people walking in the streets. The Balinese people celebrate most days with ceremony. Life cycle rites, new babies, puberty, weddings, funerals and full moons alike fill his schedule when he was not driving tourists around. Edi explained when they celebrate his whole community of 300 people attend and take to the streets and temples to show support. His wife and family are close and also live in community with his extended family including close friends.
The next song was Pearl jam- a better fit to my mood. Edi handed me an Indonesian Red Bull.
"Ginseng for your beautiful blonde soul," he said with a laugh.
I quickly gained comfort in my sweaty seat. Edi talked about a song he was sure I would appreciate.
The Gāyatrī Mantra I had heard before in a Phoenix yoga class. A version sung and not felt back home but here he tapped his steering wheel to a ripe drumbeat and deep chanting that opened my ears and my heart to the present moment.
I felt the inflections of the singer's voice, watching out my window seeing every person as a part of this mantra; the smiling school children walking in line, happy to be out of class, a local women carrying a fruit basket on the crown of her head. I listened to Edi sing it his way. I had no idea what the Sanskrit words meant but I felt it in my core.
In that moment, Edi transformed my retreat into a human experience. Introducing his lifestyle made me forget my own and placed me right where I needed to be in a Balinese mantra. Bali will forever be his equal love of ginseng, 90s love ballads and to my benefit, blonde haired American girls.
Edi, my Balinese driver sits on my right, calm and singing to himself he leans over and asks me my favorite song. Edi was a 30-something skater type with a Bon Jovi t-shirt, cutoffs and a Jamaican flag fanny pack warn around his shoulder. At that moment, I didn't have the energy to explain the fashion faux pas and simply answered his question with, " Anything contemporary I guess."
I could see both edges of his smile now. "I've got that!" Edi popped in a CD from his stack in the middle console.
I recognized the intro, as a child of the 80s I was instantly taken back to my youth. Wilson Philips had never sounded so clear pumping through the speakers of his minivan.
Ubud was a maze to me, zipping in and out of little dirt road allies to avoid the parade of people walking in the streets. The Balinese people celebrate most days with ceremony. Life cycle rites, new babies, puberty, weddings, funerals and full moons alike fill his schedule when he was not driving tourists around. Edi explained when they celebrate his whole community of 300 people attend and take to the streets and temples to show support. His wife and family are close and also live in community with his extended family including close friends.
The next song was Pearl jam- a better fit to my mood. Edi handed me an Indonesian Red Bull.
"Ginseng for your beautiful blonde soul," he said with a laugh.
I quickly gained comfort in my sweaty seat. Edi talked about a song he was sure I would appreciate.
The Gāyatrī Mantra I had heard before in a Phoenix yoga class. A version sung and not felt back home but here he tapped his steering wheel to a ripe drumbeat and deep chanting that opened my ears and my heart to the present moment.
I felt the inflections of the singer's voice, watching out my window seeing every person as a part of this mantra; the smiling school children walking in line, happy to be out of class, a local women carrying a fruit basket on the crown of her head. I listened to Edi sing it his way. I had no idea what the Sanskrit words meant but I felt it in my core.
In that moment, Edi transformed my retreat into a human experience. Introducing his lifestyle made me forget my own and placed me right where I needed to be in a Balinese mantra. Bali will forever be his equal love of ginseng, 90s love ballads and to my benefit, blonde haired American girls.
I had no idea you could write like this, Andrea. Amazing job! I laughed out loud at the line "I quickly gained comfort in my sweaty seat". I felt like my own thighs we sticking. Now I know why you love Sanskrit so much. Can't wait to read the next one!
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