I wake before dawn on my first day in Bali.
I run west through dark streets, sidewalks appearing/disappearing, dodging sinkholes and traffic. I swerve to avoid a parked truck and a scooter stops quickly behind me. I turn to apologize, the driver's face impatient.
I arrive at the beach and run the shoreline, the tide rising and the sky pale with morning color.
A cobbled pathway follows sands edge for two miles, and I turn back when reaching the airport.
I remove my shirt and jump into the sea, recalling summer days in Chicago.
I pass a long row of tourist shops where clerks invade my space. I smile in the post-run glow, skin moist with seawater and sweat.
A middle aged man on a scooter swings his arms and asks "you running?"
I nod and smile.
He talks of fitness and tells me he needs to lose weight. He presses a finger to my stomach and says "no fat!"
After a shower and meal I explore the Kuta streets.
Shop owners are not shy about breaking into my space. Sometimes I say hello, or not interested, or nothing at all.
A woman steps in front of me and takes hold of my arm. "Young girl for you, come now."
I shake my head no.
"Yes, you come," which she emphasizes by squeezing my arm. "She very good, young girl."
Each time I refuse my arm is squeezed. As I try to break free, another woman, a shadow of faded beauty drawn upon her face, gets into my space. She takes my free arm and ties a leather bracelet onto my wrist.
"For good luck," she tells me.
"You come with me, young girl waiting."
"I collect coins from other countries, are you from Australia?"
I tell her I do not have any American coins.
"You give me something for good luck now?"
I hand her a few Rupiah notes.
The other woman pulls me off the sidewalk, "I take you now, young girl, yes?"
I thank the woman for the bracelet while the other hands me a massage brochure.
"I will be back tomorrow, I have to go now."
Shop owners are not shy about breaking into my space. Sometimes I say hello, or not interested, or nothing at all.
A woman steps in front of me and takes hold of my arm. "Young girl for you, come now."
I shake my head no.
"Yes, you come," which she emphasizes by squeezing my arm. "She very good, young girl."
Each time I refuse my arm is squeezed. As I try to break free, another woman, a shadow of faded beauty drawn upon her face, gets into my space. She takes my free arm and ties a leather bracelet onto my wrist.
"For good luck," she tells me.
"You come with me, young girl waiting."
"I collect coins from other countries, are you from Australia?"
I tell her I do not have any American coins.
"You give me something for good luck now?"
I hand her a few Rupiah notes.
The other woman pulls me off the sidewalk, "I take you now, young girl, yes?"
I thank the woman for the bracelet while the other hands me a massage brochure.
"I will be back tomorrow, I have to go now."
I turn onto a road leading to the beach, numb to the questions, smiles, and "hey boss" introductions. The road sign reads Poppies 2, a narrow, curving alley filled with stalls, restaurants, and small hotels. The naked sun spares nothing, colors clashing with voices, my paranoia increasing with the afternoon heat.
On the walk back to the hotel I pass the monolith marking the entrance to the beach. A man approaches, we shake hands, I answer his questions. He hands me a brochure/lottery ticket and we discover I am the "star prize winner."
The man is surprised, elated for me.
"You come with me in taxi now, to collect your prize?"
"No, I am going home to rest."
"I pick you up tomorrow at your hotel, then?"
"No, I have plans tomorrow. When I see you next we can discuss it further."
Later, back at my hotel, I find a website explaining the scam, reading tales of woe from many a Star Prize Winner.
"You come with me in taxi now, to collect your prize?"
"No, I am going home to rest."
"I pick you up tomorrow at your hotel, then?"
"No, I have plans tomorrow. When I see you next we can discuss it further."
Later, back at my hotel, I find a website explaining the scam, reading tales of woe from many a Star Prize Winner.
