One night in Bangkok and the feminist is in overdrive

And I wouldn't say the world is my oyster exactly because of it (a reference to a very 80's pop song for the babes amongst you), but it feels like a third of the way through a round the world ticket and three months into my travelling, it is anyway. My five hours in the airport, (which due to a lack of local currency and pin for my UK bank account - I am confined to), are whittling away nicely.

Leaving Bali was bitterswet. It's been amazing, I have sorted school for two kids (at a cost I reckon of around twenty quid / fifty aussie dollars a month each), thanks to Jo, Clarence and Mum for helping me do that. The kids are over the moon, the cost has come down as they and their families intend them to work after it so we don't need to compensate for loss of earnings. I got Ngurah to come with me and talk to the families. Little did I know as I got him involved in agreeing to buy uniforms and deliver administration fees direct to the schools that the father of one of the kids (little Wyang, the extrovert five year old) was a drunkard who had punched Ngurah in the face and threathened to kil him. To his credit he came and spoke to the wife and was lovely with Wyang without mentioning any of this until after the event.

The family life of small Wyang and her mother, big Wyang (number one kid for those of you not taking notes!) sounds pretty horrifffic. Big Wyang is eight months pregnant, has a hubby who drinks and smokes, sends her and her five year old out to work and sits on his not inconsiderable arse spending their money whilst they do so. Big Wyang will work up until a week before the birth of her second child and be back at work within a month. Little Wyang will work through to keep the family going whilst mum is off.

It's a pretty sorry state of affairs for Balinmese women, Bigamy is still legal (naturaly just for the chaps), Domestic Violence is rife and there are a lot of men who do bugger all whilst the women raise the kids and earn the money. The Wyangs not only earn the money in their household but get home and cook the supper to boot.
Add in the facts that good Balinese girls don't drink, smoke, dress sexily or have sex before marriage, that kids born out of wedlock bring disgrace on the families and the only thing being a girl has going for you is that the boys have to pay for weddings and keep the parents when they get too old to work.

Naturally my feminist side is going into overdrive and the boys around me have heard in no uncertain terms what I think of all that. That's before we even start on the whole periods equally uncleanlines stuff that stinks to me of mysogny that no-one even bothered to disguise. Chuck in the fact abortion is illegal, and therefore performed in backstreet clinics, and the gypsy is glad to be Western. At least as a Westerner you get cut the slack to smoke, drink and dance without questions even if I have learnt it's wise to be respectful with your dress outisde of Western venues.

Having said I have met some fabulous hard working Balinese men in the boys I have been hanging out with. I am also loving the fact that unlike their Western counterparts the men in Bali have no embarrassement about giving each other a hug, wandering down the street arm in arm or just generealy showing affection to each other in the way women do in the West.


Anyway, leaving the place was an emotional experience. I love it, feel very at home there, I think it's somewhere I can make a real difference in a number of ways, and I plan to return, probably on a permenant basis when I have exhausted the rest of my ticket.
For now though my thoughts are focxused on home, I will be there in around nineteen hours and am looking forward with much excitement to catching up with my freinds and family. Watch out London / Crowhurst, the gypsy is coming hom and she's in fine spirits and going through a dance till you drop stage.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She gets published!

So, last week I am lamenting the lack of an English paper in bali, when hey presto, some wise american spots a gap in the market and before you can say you call that journalism? Theres a rag with english football stories and everything. The writing is admittedly on the pale side of sketchy in parts, but its a paper, had a story about my mate Trevor in, and some interesting info on the place voted best island holiday for the last three years apparemtly. I got that from the paper but couldnt tell you who the voters were.

So, I naturally set up a meeting with the editor and before you can say - eighteen quid a colum, good money over here, I have a committemnt from heim to publish my writing assuming its any good. the first article is nearly finished and I love it. The money will go to the school for Bali kids fund. hes also said if I come to live in Bali which is currently the plan post my round the world novel writing adventure, then I have as much work as I want. well he didnt quite say that but was definately letting me know there would be other openings if I was interested.

Bagus tekali (very good) \s they would say over here

life rocks on
i have discovered the best band ever, twelve thumping musicians who bring everything fromn bach to james Brown to Flameco to life, I love them, off to see them tonight with the boys.

Must dash, dancing shoes to don and columns to whip up

yours in a whirl of frenzied i am a writer excitment, and with the knowledge I had better find a PC with punctuation and spellcheck to produce the goods on.

Julie

Education, Education, Education

Which for the Aussie contingent was a very famous Blair campaign pledge prior to the 1997 election.
Hum, we take it for granted I think. Ngurah, the guy who runs the tour shop told me a story about how when he was a kid his parents couldnt afford to send him to secondary school after a year, so he went out and sold mangoes, and his sister used to come home from school then work to help him raise the money for school. eventually he manged to finish, but he spent many months crying because his friends were learning and he wasnt, many days learning from his best friends books before this happened.

Its not just that school costs, which it does certainly at secondary level, but its that books and uniforms and pens cost, and kids can earn money which in families where the father has gone (like the ones my street kids are part of) is pretty fundamental to the family survival.

I sat down with the girls I am freinds with, the bracelet sellers of 11 and 5 and listened to them tell me how they wanted to go to school, how they felt jealous when they saw the other kids in their uniforms heading up the road with school bags, whilst they prepared to go to Kuta and deal with the often stroppy tourists. I asked the question so you want to go to school and after that answer felt gutted I had.

I have sat on it for a few days , then I summoned up the courage to talk to nomans big sister and ask about it. The sister is 17 and looks after noman, their money helps supports their parents who live in the poorest region of Bali, karassam, where Ngurah comes from. Their story is one of thousands like it in their region.

The upshot is that I have resolved to help, these kids are so beautiful, so bright, Noman at eleven has the head of an old woman, she looks after the other kids with a gentle maternalism, but she has the kind of eyes that break your heart every time you see them. She smiles, but her eyes tell you she is sad, that she has seen more pain in eleven years that I have in 33. Wyang at five has the best English of the lot of them and has all the tricks down pat, she is very cute and knows how to work it with the tourists, I suspect she earns more than the rest of the kids combined.

I want to send them to school, ideally I would also like to send the two boys and the two little girls who beg with their grandmother and the other little girl I spot at night collecting beer bottles from the bin for the pennies the company offers for returns. But I cant do it all, at least not alone, in fact, having been more philanthropic in a number of ways that I intended when I got here, I will struggle even with the two girls. However my wonderful mother has offered to help, and if anyone else is interested then that wouyld be fabulous. I will leave money with Ngurah for the first years school, I trust him to make sure it goes in monthly installments to the families, he has his own exzperience behind him, a lot of integrity and a dream of opening secondary schools providing free education for kids who cant afford it to recommend him. I think its important that I have someone to ensure the money goes in small amounts, and to monitor that the girls are in fact learning rather than earning. I am talking to the families and my Indonesian friends to get a real estimate of the cost but I think sixty pounds, one hundred and fifty aussie dollars is about what I would need to provide per child per month, it may be less, but I expect there would be some need to compensate for loss of earnings in addition to funding school and the neccessarys for it. If anyone wants to help please let me know - I will coordinate things both ends and pay upfront whatever is pledged before I leave so it is all sorted, if anyone other than mum comes forward we could look at helping a third child. I know many of you like me already sponsor kids, and I know it doesnt sound like the most sopisticated scheme in the world, but I believe it would work and I will ensure every penny goes direct to the child even if it means asking the boys to buy the uniforms and books and pay the fees in person themselves. I know a fulkl kid is a lot, but if we could get five people offering $25 or ten quid a month that would do it. if anyone is interested send me an email or leave a message in the comments section.
I know you would all be doing the same if you saw these kids.

Julie x

the Balinese princess is back in town

Who you may remember is the woman I met in a backpackers in Perth. There I am wandering through the streets and there she is doing the same. She is the person who sent me to find the boys at the tour office - and had been to see them but when Putu laong (there are two Putus) tried to convey in English that I wanted her number by saying my name over and over - she corrected him with 'Tanya, not Julie' apparently. We caught up and swapped stories but having discovered she has three Indonesian boyfriends all 25 years her junior I think I will leave it at that.

Life here ticks on at pace. I attended a party on the beach last night, we barbequed fresh fish, danced to the music from the club over the road and chatted to an assortment of Bali expats and locals. The food and company were fabulous, the backdrop of a nearly full moon reflected in the water and palm trees swaying in the breeze, likewise. Max decided to dance with her fire tools, a samuri sword a fan and a literally roaring whip. Dressed in one of her own creations a combination of not much silk and eye catching leather accessories, I was needless to say in camera heaven. I have the most amazing pictures. dance of the firethrowing mistress, a small boy in a coconut tree and a plethora of breathtaking kids and scenery shots that I am sure I can sell when I get home. I will naturally pay any of the kids that help me to do so.

Have loads more to tell but unfortunately I am being plagued by mossies in this cafe so will leave it there

Miss you all masses, will see the UK posse in less than 2 weeks

Joo x

New Toy

My camera is proving to be better than chocolate, on a par with dolphins in joy delivering terms. I took loads of photos of the kids I am fast becoming firm friends with who sell bracelets on the street. There are 4 of them, Comen, 11, Wyang, 5, Yogi, 3 and Putu, six. They are beautiful and work up to ten hours a day dealing with tourists who sometimes seem to let the hassle fatigue of Bali overshadow the fact they are dealing with kids. The first photo session was wearing, the kids were pretty uncomfortable and getting decent pictures was hard work. Once I delivered the results however it was whole new story. I got begged to do another shoot and suddenly they were posing and coming up with props and ideas faster than you could say, you liked the photos then. The pictures cost around ten pence, 25 cents to print, and the reward from the faces of the people I give them to is as Mastercard would say, priceless.

Dad came, set the town on fire, metaphorically. He met a guy who was a former liverpool FC pro footballer who is trying to set up an academy here to coach the Balinese kids but due to funding problems was on the verge of giving up. Needless to say Dads now organsing a charity football match to save the day. Once they got chatting all plans of seeing Bali fell by the wayside, as the two Kens (the footballer goes by the same name) whipped each other into a lather of mutual excitement. Bali Ken is flying to see England Ken next week so they can get the ball rolling. watch this space, I am sure they will pull it off with bells on and I plan to do everything I can to help.

Life is slightly calmer although a little duller now Dad has left Bali.

I went to a fabulous club last night with the boys and my new Spanish designer friend who is a real bonus find. Papuan dancers and drummers rocked the place as did a fantastic Balinese reggae band. I danced, on steps, on podiums, on the stage with Max, aforementioned designer, even the boys who had to be up at 6 to collect a car made it through to the bitter 3am finish. It was one of those nights where you feel, not just because of the cocktails, but because of the company and the atmosphere and the vibe, like you are flying, like you are on a cloud from which no-one can pull you down, like you are the dancing queen. I loved it, felt fabulously sexy, and despite the searing heat and lack of air con, you couldnt have got me out of there before closing if you had been Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt waiting with a private champers filled jet to whisk me to Paris.

The apostrophes you may notice are playing up again, my favourite internet cafe has terrible keyboards but a half decent connection that overcomes the grammatical defects. I am aware myt spelling and editing needs work but as I said its only half decent so it takes hours to get every entry on the screen. I will edit more thouroughly when I get back to the land of high speed connections.
I am off to a Hindu ceremony with one of the boys from the tour office tommorrow, then back in time to see Bali Kens kids play soccer on Sunday. I am taking photos at both.

life is like dancing, sonmetimes you just cant stop. other times the beat is harder to find.

Joo x
P.S the novel is going great guns, and Mum, yes you are right, the dress due to religion is more conservative than in the West for the most part, but it is a predominantly Hindu island.

Some Men

Have really got a nerve. I know you all expect statements like this from me, what with me being a female worshipping feminist and all, but really. I go out a few nights ago in a silk backless top.apparently, this means I am up for it with any old bugger who asks. The next day I am walking down the street and a man in an off white sweat drenched singlet, that struggles to cover his copious belly, who can't have been a day under sixty tells me "I see you last night, sexy top". "Teri mark assi" I reply, thank you, but I am sure mispelt. After the obligatory "where you go?" "Jalan Jalan" (just walking) he says, "you come home with me". I am quite frankly gobsmacked. If I looked like Brenda Blethed for example, I am sure I would not have the nerve to try and pick up some recently slim thirty something . The fact he links my top and the question with so little subtly further annoys me. I wear a sexy top, so obviously shagging him or any other man that moves must be on my mind. As it happens I am not in the best mood anyway at this precise moment having just shaken some strange street boy who has decided to stalk me round Kuta and the old guy cops it in front of his mates. "why would I want to go some with you? You are twice my age, twice my weight, I don't know and you obviously have no charm" is my reply spoken in something other than a soothing tone.
I know I should rise above it and all that, but sometimes, a bit of hard nosed truth is in order.

Julie

Friends & reunited

After a couple of fabulous days on the most beautiful Island I have ever been to (little raised thatched huts to eat in on the berach, horse and carts as the only transport, posh hotels for a tenner a night), I came back to Lombok to find "papa". Afgter a few minutes of telling the local boys I was looking the Lombok grapevine swung into action and ten minutes later he pulled up beside me on his scootrer. Seems the R & R did him good too, after a lovely meal and some terrible Lombok-ian music (much like the Balinese - out of tune and with words that melt into each other when the singers English volvcab fails); I am pleased to announce we are officially frineds again.
Dad will tell you he's decided to forgive me, and is telling anyone who will listen how his son is a doddle and the girls big trouble, but at least we are on the same island and having fun again.

Families are like chess, require much strategy and make your brain hurt - but ultimately rewarding x
Julie x

Islands apart

So Dad arrived. We hired a bike, got a flat tyre, had to push it for miles as we're in the middle of the biggest Hindu festial of the year and everythings shut. Bar, thankfully, one tiny honest mechanic a couple of days walk from where we broke down.

In order to escapre the festival - or more specifically the quiet day where all the power is off, everything's shut and you get arrested if you leave your hotel (or escorted back by the police at least), I had arranged for Dad and I to fly to Lombokj and transit fromn there to Gili Trawangen, a beautiful party island that has it all, white beaches, sunsets, mountains, snorkelling, little raised platforms with thatched roovesto eat your dinner in by the side of the ocean by candlelight - the works. Spoke to Dad who seemed on the phone to think it was a good idea. I forget however that like his daughter he likes to be in control. Was planning to read out trhe relevant pages on the 3 gili islands and lombok on the plane so we could decided where to go for our 4 day jaunt, only we shared a taxi with a woman who had been before which I suspect left him feeling like he knew very little partly because I also knew very little having not read the book for 8 weeks). Upshot was nme getting shouted at at the airporrt, on the transit bus, on the plane, at the next airport. We parted company at Lombok but then an hour or so later as I was getting in a cab he insisted on dropping me at the port. I said, lovely. Only it wasn't and after being shouted at the the ferry terminal due to the fat I refused to sit on the bike whilst he drove past the man trying to charge for parking ( i walked!) we agreed maybe a few days apart may be in order. Not a great start given we have had the best part of two and a half years apart. He's now in Lombok, I am as I said in Gili Trawangen.
Feeling very bad as he came all this way to see me and niether of us have a phone to make up
However we are only due to be away for 3 nights and I know where he is booked on the last night so if he doesn't make it out here will venture to find him then.
A slightly deflated gypsy - searching for life is like family analogies
xxxx

busy doing nothing

Dear All,

Not much to report from the humid Indonesian island that I currently hang my knickers in. I've been making photo albums for the now post ceremony happy couple. I have been learning that not all Hindu weddings are like that one and some even involve dancing, albeit of the traditional rather than knees up vcariety. I have been having lessons on the inticacies of the Balinese catse system, which as you can imagine I am not a huge fan of - being a genral egalitarian kinda girl. I have swum, taken lots more photos, learn howto use the video funbction on my fabulous fancy pants camera which I am having a ball with, buying ice creams for the street kids, and checking out beach front hotels for my dad who appears to have changed from cheap as chips ken to lap of luxury ken. He turned hgis nose up at the notion of a cold shower and hotel a full ten minutes from the beach so i am preparing for a spot of pool side beach side indulgence which despite loving my simple life - I am naturally hankering for!

Admist all this I have been playing with my boys - I am just infatuated by their laughter and friendship. They are very tactile with each other in a way that would send the less enlightened Western guys running for the nearest wall. They pick each other up - link arms, cuddle, and just have this amazing friendship that I am really enjoying being an honary guest to. We have been mostly chatting to tourists in their office, drinking very strong very sweet balinese coffee and very hot balinese food (their contribution) with the odd tub of Haagan daas and fruit juices (my contribution). As you can no doubt tell my detox virtueness and plans for fasting are well and truly out of the window and the bali belly and humidity inducing weightloss well and truly turned around. I have also joined their nightly ritual of a few drinks in the apartment followed by a burst of playstation and know the tricks of most of the characters of mortal combat more than my pacifist self approves of.

I am also making firm friends with the lovely Spanish clothes and Jewellry designer, in spite of the fact she gave me a gift of wasabi tequilla the other night - which I can wholeheartedly recommend as a present for any partner you have just discovered in bed with your best friend. oh, and the book is taking shape - I am very excited about it and have a feeling it will be a corker - watch this space!

Julie x