14::Sanur Beach, Bali
2.3.97 Monday

A.M. Jim went snorkeling.

I was happy to have time to myself. I sat by the pool writing – trying to plot some fiction. A woman came by to ask if I wanted a massage. She wore a white uniform and seemed to be connected with the hotel so I said okay. I've really wanted to try one but have been shy about just letting any of the beach ladies do it. She took me behind some bushes where I stretched out on a mat and a couple of other women -- beach ladies, I'm sure -- have their way with me. They strip down my bathing suit and I guess passersby can see me, but what the hell, this is Bali, isn't it? Great feeling.

In the afternoon, we arrange another Bali Jani tour with Yogi:

• Mengwi Royal Temple

• Alas Kedaton monkey forest

• Tanah Lot temple on the ocean

Sounds of Bali women echo in my ears. "Hello, madame -- mah-dahm -- just looking?... Just looking, madame, come inside my shop, yes?... Batik, you like sarong, t-shirt?... Come, come... Don’t forget me, madame... You like massage, manicure?... Just one minute, look..." There are few tourists here right now so we get the full force of their desperation. It's not like buying one batik sarong would get me off the hook. Their neediness is infinite.

The news from Jakarta is not good. There are riots and fires. Attacks against ethnic Chinese. Ramadan? People are fasting in the heat. There are evening dinner feasts to prepare. Everyone is expected to exchange presents on Idul Fitri, the end of Ramadan. I think the pressure to shop and spend lots of money is great, but maybe I'm making too close an analogy with Christmas. Maybe people are just tired of being poor. All over Southeast Asia, the local Chinese bear the brunt of this anger because they are often the shop owners.

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