Every morning I would awake from my equatorial slumber to the "schwip schwip" of her coarse broom as Ibu rid her well trodden paths of detrious left from travelers the day before, each efficient stroke leaving a spotless arc of smooth stone before her.
She had cobweb silver hair and her preferred style was to wear it atop her head in a tight bun,held in place by a slither of polished bamboo. Although her lined face had lost the elasticity of youth,she still demanded your attention as her fine bone structure and facial symmetry continued to make her a remarkably attractive woman. Simply dressed in traditional Balinese fashion, Ibu would pad around the losmen free of any pedal constraints and often startling you with her silent approach.
When alone in her company this old woman would look straight into the essence of your soul with her clear brown eyes, and strip you of any social or psychological facade, laying your soul bare, exposed to her optic intrusion. However, rather than her gaze instilling any sense of fear of vulnerability, her searching look would bring a sense of calmness and reasurance to your state, as if gently opening a line of communication between subconcious selves that refreshed the spirit with openess, truth and understanding.
After one of these unusual brief encounters, Ibu would give a soft old lady cackle and move on about her day, satisfied with her subtle display of soul magic.
Oh yes, Bali is a magical island, and I believe some of its people have a magic about them. Ibu certainly did.
Cheers
Ham
PS Sorry if I'm overposting. Got a bit of time on my hands at the mo, so I'm putting down some memories.