freelancer
I refer to Tony's experience with his lost car keys, which I can tell you is not atypical. Of course, I was never in the same dire situation, but I experienced several situations where people, Balinese, came out of nowhere to help, or see if they could help.
Now, I will tell you a story, which surely could NOT have happened in freelancer’s Kuta, and therefore could have NEVER happened in Bali (accordingto freelancer). I was not involved, but my friend I Nyoman Suarna, a resident of Tenganan, was. Nyoman was not a close friend, but when I dropped by his village on many occasions, I felt warmth and peace in his presence, as we just sat in front of his shop (the one just in front of the front gate, as one enters the village), shooting the breeze, and having a drink, while eating bananas. He loved cockfights (he owned several fighting cocks himself), and on more than one occasion, we did attend fights together . In that respect, I considered him a friend.
Approximately six (or even seven years ago), a week after my arrival in Bali, I was at Tenganan and met him, or rather I first met his wife who was rather gloomy, and then Nyoman. By then, I knew something serious had happened during my winter absence from Bali.
Nyoman recalled his story: his older son, 14-years old, had died in a motorcycle accident few months before. He had collided head-on with a car carrying four French tourists, and driven by one of them. The accident happened in the vicinity of Tenganan, and in no time, as you can appreciate, Nyoman was at the scene. There, he found a large crowd of Balinese, many very excited (I don’t remember if the police was there yet), surrounding the Frenchmen. I can imagine the chaos, the bewilderment of these tourists, and their panic. Nyoman inquired if there had been any witnesses to the accident. Apparently, there were, and he was told that in this blind turn of the road, his son had been practically on the wrong side of the road when he smashed into the front of the Frenchmen’s car.
Nyoman remarked that it was more than often the case that his son was carelessly speeding, and in general was kind of “crazy” the way he drove his cycle. Nyoman added that these Frenchmen were “our guests” and should be treated with respect and justice. Based on what he had just heard, he was sure it was his son’s fault for provoking this accident.
To make a story short. The Frenchmen were let go (they were staying in Candi Dasa). They showed up the next morning at Nyoman’s shop, apologized profusely once more and thanks Nyoman for his integrity: they were on their way that same evening back to France (I am sure they must have thought Nyoman could still change his mind, and they did not want to linger around).
As for me, I remember a while back, one afternoon, having a collision riding my motorcycle on Ubud Main Street. I still maintain that I was in the right (whatever that mean in Bali), as I was riding on the left side of the road, when our two motorcycles collided. There was only few minor scrapes, but mostly mechanical damages. Right away, a large crowd formed around us. Since I tend to get excited easily, the tone rose fast. I was pushed and shoved around. It seemed everybody in Ubud, or at least on Main Street, had been a witness to this accident. Eventually, I ended up paying the other party some money for his damages. But I am sure (I don’t speak Balinese) that several “witnesses” were still inciting, in Balinese, the other motorist to get more money from me.
My question to you, freelancer, is: what incident should I remember? What Bali should I remember?
PS. My friend Nyoman died in 2003.