Midnights in Bali

by Carla de Guzman

  “Selamat pagi!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, clapping his hands together and giving them a small bow. “Welcome to Bali, Miss Ava, Sir Scott,” he gave them a short bow. Like their driver, he had pronounced Ava as ‘Aba’ and Scott as ‘Skoot.’ “Nama saya Wayan. It is my pleasure to show you around Bali. Now let us get the adventure rolling!”

  Without further prompting, Wayan opened the back door of the sedan for Ava while Scott preferred to sit up front with their tour guide. Once they were all settled in, the car pulled out of the driveway and into the streets of Bali.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Always Be My Bebek

  IN MANY WAYS, Bali reminded Ava of the provinces in the Philippines. All the establishments and houses were built low, and had the same kind of hodgepodge look to them.

  But while the Philippines had the occasional mall in between sari-sari stores and houses, Bali was abundant in massive statues and art shops. Her eyes were trained out the car windows as they passed a white stone statue of a warrior releasing an arrow, standing over a two-headed snake with a delicately carved arch sculpted over it. She would never see anything quite like this in the Philippines, that was for sure.

  Rows and rows of shops lined the street, all selling carved statues, gigantic Hindu god heads, some with colorful double doors drying out in the sun. Ava suddenly thought of her mother, who loved collecting Asian artworks. She was definitely going to get her something from one of these shops. There were also a lot of places that looked like temples, and several small, house-shaped altars made of brick.

  Scott, meanwhile, was staring at an object that was stuck to the car’s windshield. It looked a lot like the banana-leaf bowl that Ava had been staring at back at the hotel. The phone in his pocket started ringing, and he ignored it.

  “So,” Wayan began, his eyes flickering to the backseat before glancing at Scott. “Miss Ava, Sir Scott, is there a place you want to visit?”

  “I actually made an itinerary,” Ava announced, leaning forward and handing Wayan her pages of hotel stationery with her notes and itinerary. It was the result of careful Googling, and Ava was actually proud of herself for coming up with it.

  “Tanah Lot temple came highly recommended, but I am very flexible.”

  Scott snorted. She ignored him.

  “And I am okay with anything as long as there are no monkeys. I’m … allergic.”

  “Of course you are,” Scott muttered under his breath, resting his chin against his hand as he looked out the window. If this was what Ava was going to be like all day, then he would have rather stayed holed up in his room. Wayan looked over the notes with one hand, his other still on the steering wheel.

  “Oh, this is very … nice,” he noted, nodding approval and reading the list like he wasn’t driving. Scott suddenly put on his seatbelt and glanced warily at their guide. “But I’m afraid, Miss Ava, most of the items on your list are not possible to do. And what is wrong with monkeys, Miss Ava?”

  “Yeah, Ava? What’s wrong with monkeys?”

  “What do you mean?” Ava asked, leaning forward so that her head popped out between Wayan and Scott. “That itinerary was highly recommended on Lonely Planet.”

  “Yes, but because Miss Gabbie said we have to be back by 6pm, we cannot go to Ubud and Seminyak on the same day. It will take one hour or more with traffic to go around. Actually it is very difficult to get around Bali without a private car, and we still have really bad traffic.”

  “Yeah, you have that in common with Manila,” Ava sighed, leaning back on her seat. Another plan foiled. What was the universe trying to tell her? “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  “How about we just . . . excuse me, Wayan,” Scott said, the first time he had spoken out loud in the car. He took the itinerary from Wayan’s hands, glancing at it briefly before crumpling it up and tossing it out his open window. “There. Much better.”

  Ava screamed from her seat. She pushed herself forward and watched as her carefully planned itinerary literally went out the window. “What is wrong with you?” She screeched, smacking his arm. He didn’t even flinch. “I worked really hard on that!”

  “Obviously you did,” Scot said, laughing like Ava had just told him the funniest joke he ever heard.

  “So why the hell did you throw it out the window?” She shouldn’t be this angry, she knew, but there was just something about Scott McLeod that riled her up. Maybe it was the fact that she’d already been so vulnerable around him, making her feel embarrassed. Or because he was being an asshole. She was ready to accept the latter more than the former.

  “I say we let Wayan plan the day out for us,” he said, not even turning around in his seat to face her. “I thought you came here to Bali to forget.”

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about last night,” Ava snapped at Scott, flopping backward into her seat and crossing her arms over her chest with a huff.

  “Yeah, like a bloody piece of tissue paper can stop me from doing whatever I want,” he said, glaring out the window and brooding.

  Throughout this whole exchange, Wayan knew to be quiet. He’d encountered irate tourists before, so this wasn’t new. But as he listened to the bickering pair, he knew exactly where to take them to calm them down.

  They made it to their first destination after an hour-long drive. It was mostly spent with Scott and Wayan talking about Balinese culture, the difference between Balinese and Javanese design, and their variations on Hinduism, among others. Ava occasionally asked a question about something they passed on the road.

  Scott and Ava made a point not to speak to each other. Wayan was more than happy to fill their tension by going into full tour-guide mode, entering a nondescript parking lot in the middle of a deserted street.

  Ava was suddenly struck with the realization that she had no idea where they were, and that she was sitting in a car with two men who were virtually strangers. She had no plans for the day, and she was in Wayan’s hands. She shuddered and stopped thinking that way.

  “—a lot more . . . how you say . . . simple in design,” Wayan was explaining to Scott. “But anyway, we are here at the community temple.”

  The three of them emerged from the car. Scott stretched a bit, easing the soreness in his back and the cramped feeling in his legs. He was always too tall to sit in the front seat, but he didn’t really feel like dealing with Ava right now.

  “This way,” Wayan told the couple, walking toward the roofed gymnasium not too far from where they were parked. Ava noticed that while there were a lot of people in the area, where weren’t too many tourists, which was odd, given that it was nearing peak season. “We are in Sukawati, where most of the art masters in Bali live,” Wayan began his explanations as they entered the gym. “This is Puseh Desa Batuan, or community temple, where we pray to the god Vishnu the Protector. If you ask how many temples there are in Bali, nobody can give you a straight answer,” Wayan chuckled, like he still found the joke hilarious. “In Bali we have a temple for everything. House, street, traffic light, business, temple, temple, temple! It is easier to count the people in Bali than the temples!”

  They stopped at the edge of the gym, where they had a good view of what was across the street. “But I brought you to Puseh Desa Batuan because it is by the art masters. There is no community temple more beautiful.”

  Ava was having a bit of difficulty wrapping her batik around with her backpack in the way, so Scott wordlessly came over to her and slid the cloth around her waist, his fingers skimming over her body like he was an old hand at this. Strangely enough, Ava didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. She studied his hands, and remembered them on her skin, the way he’d made her feel. She held in a breath.

  “Truce,” she suddenly exhaled, making him pause and look at her. “I just want to enjoy this,” she said, indicating the whole tour. “I think you do too. So . . . truce?”

  “Truce,” Scott replied, giving her a small smile before tying the batik shut. “Let’s go.”

&
nbsp; Silently thanking the gods that they were getting along, Wayan smiled at his guests. “Just come out whenever you feel,” Wayan told them. “I will wait here for you.”

  They walked into Puseh Desa Batuan together, Scott and Ava. They entered the first courtyard, and looked at the structure in front of them. The temple was made of the same red brick and concrete like the smaller temples on the street, but Batuan was definitely created with greater craftsmanship. The structure was stacked upward like a brick pyramid, adorned with stone swirls and flowers. Faces of demigods and deities decorated the temple, looking out in different directions like they were keeping watch. There were tall bamboo poles placed in a line outside the temple, with delicate mobiles and rattan decorations swaying in the wind. Wayan had explained that a ceremony had transpired in the temple the other day.

  “Was this a part of your itinerary?” Scott asked, still looking at the temple. Ordinarily, Ava would have thought that he was mocking her, attacking her for having a plan. But she knew he just really wanted to know.

  “No,” she sighed, watching the pale rattan leaves swaying in the wind. “It wasn’t.”

  “And are you really allergic to monkeys?”

  “When I was a kid, a monkey pulled at my hair when I wouldn’t give him my snacks,” she muttered. “So . . . no.”

  They continued to explore the temple together, making observations about the statues, the ceremony that had happened. At one point, Scott disappeared from the main path everyone was walking on, and he and Ava discovered a small walkway lined with large bowls of water lilies of different shapes and colors. Then they stumbled upon an all-grey stone gate, with two angry-looking creatures flanked to the sides.

  “What do you think they’re guarding?” Ava asked, snapping a photo of everything that caught her eye. Scott waited for her to lower her lens before answering.

  “Their hearts, probably,” he commented cryptically before walking off into another path.

  In one of the covered areas of the temple, Ava found Scott sitting with an old woman, laughing at something he had said. The woman was sitting with a woven basket on her hip, arranging the familiar-looking banana leaf bowls in an array in front of her. The bowls were filled with flowers, a small portion of rice cake, and herbs. Ava took a photo of the woman laughing with Scott, and then a shot of the bowls.

  “Your soul mate?” Ava asked, nudging her head toward the old woman, who was patting Scott’s arm and smiling. She was all wrinkles and no teeth, but her laugh was infectious. Ava continued snapping photos.

  “I’ve proposed, but she said she’s too good for me,” Scott joked, squeezing the soft hand on his arm. Ava giggled and walked cautiously toward them, observing the array of offerings the old woman was arranging.

  “What are they?” Ava asked him, pointing her lips at the items in front of them. “I’ve seen these things everywhere.”

  “They’re daily offerings to the gods,” Scott pointed out, smiling good-naturedly at the woman as she handed him one of the offerings. “Wayan explained it to me before we came here. These are canang sari, or at least, I think that’s what she called them.”

  The woman started to gesture wildly, showing Scott how to make his offering to Vishnu. Taking the canang sari, they walked to a statue of a four armed woman adorned with stone jewels and a crown. She had a leg raised like she was taking one large step forward.

  “Vishnu,” the woman said, nodding at the statue.

  “The goddess of preservation and protection,” Ava breathed, making the woman smile again. The old woman leaned on Scott’s tall frame for support. Ava followed them, feeling like she was interrupting a very private moment. She didn’t miss the look of utter concentration on his face as he made his offering, like he was praying for something deeper than she could ever pray for.

  After the community temple, Wayan took them to a few art shops selling wares made by the people living in the Sukawati district.

  “Being an artist is an honor in Bali,” he explained as they walked through a shop with the same painted eggs Ava saw in the hotel restaurant that morning. “My brother is an artist, like my father and grandfather before me. It is a tradition.”

  “Why aren’t you an artist then, Wayan?” Scott asked casually, standing with their tour guide near the display cases for the eggs. He was struggling with his phone, which was ringing off the hook again. Wayan was trying to figure out the setting for him. Ava walked along the opposite side of the store, trying to choose an egg to get for her mother.

  Wayan laughed like Scott had just said the funniest joke in the world. Apparently, the Balinese people found snappy and rude Scottish guys incredibly charming. “My name means big brother,” he explained. “I got a car and drive people around for more money than my brother, so I am really the Wayan of the family.”

  Then the phone stopped ringing. Wayan had figured out the setting to get it to divert the calls. Scott was so happy he almost kissed their tour guide.

  “I owe you a beer later, mate!” Scott cheered, skipping over to where Ava was. “Ava, Wayan figured out how to shut my mobile up!”

  “Good for you,” she said, reaching up and tiptoeing to pat the top of his head affectionately. Scott blew off the hair that had fallen over his eyes at Ava’s gesture. “What do you think of this one?”

  She’d found an egg painted with deep china blue paint, the design featured a woman dancing in a storm of swirling blue clouds. Scott opened his mouth to say something when Wayan snatched Ava’s egg and marched off before she could ask what was going on. She was just about to follow their tour guide to the counter when she realized that Scott was laughing at one of the displays behind her. She watched him laugh for a moment, observing the way his eyes sparkled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He laughed so freely, and she was jealous of him for it.

  “Uh oh,” she said, turning around to see what was making him laugh so hard. “What is it?”

  “Dirty eggs,” he managed to say in between laughs. “Fucking dirty eggs.”

  Ava was just about to ask what that cryptic explanation meant when she saw the eggs Scott was laughing at. She gasped, slightly scandalized. This particular shelf featured very explicit and pornographic designs, men with massive penises pleasuring more than one woman at once, women sitting on top of men, still with massive penises. It was such a sharp contrast to the pretty, delicate design of the egg she’d purchased that it made her laugh too.

  “What are you, five years old?” she asked Scott, shaking her head as she walked off towards the counter. “You are a child.”

  “But Ava,” he protested, still chortling as he followed her. “Dirty eggs!”

  They found Wayan too busy bargaining intensely with the shop owner at the counter. There was a lot of back and forth dialogue between Wayan and the owner, and Ava caught words like limang and duang said repeatedly.

  “Wayan’s bargaining fifty thousand rupiah for a two hundred thousand rupiah egg,” Ava commented as she and Scott stood aside and let the master work. “He’s nuts!”

  “But it’s a really good bargain,” Scott commented, nodding in approval. “Since when were you an expert in Balinese?”

  “The numbers are kind of the same as they are in Filipino,” Ava shrugged like it was no big deal, still watching Wayan on a bargain showdown with the shop owner. While the haggling sounded intense, Wayan maintained a relaxed pose, his Hawaiian shirt adding to the effect. Ava supposed that if her job entailed showing tourists around the city, she would be quite relaxed too.

  “Good news!” Wayan announced a few minutes later, looking at Ava and clapping his hands together. “The owner is giving you a discount because you’re the first customer of the day!”

  “Oh, it’s buena mano!” Ava said, nodding happily. “We do that in the Philippines too!”

  Beside her, Scott was looking at her like he had no idea who she was, his brows furrowed in confusion. Ava turned to him and saw the look on his face.

  “What?” she
asked him. Scott blinked, and shook his head.

  For once, he had nothing more to say on the subject. Ava frowned, trying to see if his silence was a good thing. Then she turned to Wayan, thanking the owner as she paid for her mother’s pasalubong. Wayan talked casually to the shop owner while the two waited for the egg to be wrapped, watching the owner took Ava’s money and brushed it gingerly all over the store, like he was fanning away flies from his wares.

  “What is he doing?” Scott asked, watching in fascination. The shop was quite big, and the owner seemed determined to have the money touch every available surface.

  “It’s a luck thing,” Ava quickly explained to Scott. “I’ve seen store owners do it in all the pirated—er . . . small shops in Manila.”

  “That is so weird,” Scott commented in amusement before Wayan joined them and they walked back to the car together.

  In another store, Scott picked up a hand-carved statue of Rama and Sita, Indonesia’s equivalent of Romeo and Juliet. It was made by another friend of Wayan’s, in wood so pale that it looked like it was made of ivory. Scott was hesitant about getting the statue, but Wayan managed to bargain a price so low he couldn’t say no.

  “I wasn’t planning on getting Gabbie a present,” Scott pointed out as the shop owners and Wayan wrapped the gift. Ava was looking at a pair of bookends in the same white wood, carved into temples. “I wasn’t planning on coming to Bali either, but Charlie insisted. Gabbie would not have let me stay in Hong Kong. I owe them a lot. They brought me all the way out here.”

  “Is that so crazy?” Ava asked, only half-listening to Scott. She was testing the weight of the bookend and deciding whether she should get them for Bee. She was only in Bali for three days, but pasalubong was mandatory, especially since she’d left so suddenly.