I’ve just been reading about dogs. Someone commented on the origin of dingoes.
As in: “Didjer goada the rices Saddy?” “Nah, dingo”.
I laughed out loud.
I’ve just had lunch at the Sports Bar across the street. One of the regulars, a big Aussie woman who I’ve seen there each night, came over and asked me how I am. I said, “Good thanks.” She said, “You seemed to have a tummy upset the other night.” I said, “Oh, I’m fine now, it was nothing. You seem to like this place.”
She said, “I’m the owner.” Aaaaaah. Her name’s Carol.
The hotel staff are cleaning all the pebblecrete paving. They all said hello as I walked past and, thinking myself clever, I said, “Santik, ya?” thinking it meant clean, healthy. Hah! So much for my Indonesian. It means flint. Where did I get that from? I seem to remember it from some sign, years ago. Anyway, clean is bersih. (Not cantik. I know that one. I’m thinking it all the time when I see these local ladies. Cantik, cinta!)
I added a whole, little bowl of raw, full strength chili to my nasi goreng. Now I’m feeling a little bit of tummy upset.
And now the sun’s out. This is the first time. Maybe I’ll get a bit of that Bali tan.
A final bit for the day. It’s been pretty quiet and I head over to a different hotel in Kuta at midday tomorrow. Jalan Bakung Sari.
I’ve just heard (on Facebook) of the death last April of a really nice Dutch guy who was the supervisor in charge of film processing and film makeup (inserting the film commercials) for many years at Channel 7. He was unfailingly polite, a real gentleman. He used to bob his head to me and say, “Good morning, Pe-ter”, in his Dutch/European accent. He had a goatee beard and for years I used to think his surname was Vermeer – he looked as if he should have been an artist. It was really Vermazen, Jan Vermazen. I didn’t realise he was born and grew up in Indonesia. He died in April and left instructions that there was to be no funeral and no tributes. Wow, Jan, you really were a self effacing gentle man. RIP.