He was the epitome of Ubudian cool. Painter, musician and romancer of some repute, this thirty something artist would spend most afternoons sauntering around Ubud in his laid back amble, chatting with friends and travelers alike in all manner of topic. His preferred conversation lent toward a more serious dialogue of a metaphysical nature. God, our existence and other weighty concerns occupied his thoughts and our discussions most days, he enthralling me with what I perceived at the time as isights and understandings I had yet discovered for myself.(I Had a small period of spiritual searching for a while) When you spoke to Blondie he had the habit of leaning his head ever so slightly to one side and giving you an earnest nod with serious eyes, imbuing the speaker with a sense of being heard and listened to with interest. I liked this pony-tailed, tattooed bohemian.
Our conversation turned to food one afternoon. Blondie was convinced a western diet restricted the spirit and soul, blocking channels of understanding and clear thought with its heavy consistency and restricted most westerners from a fulfilled life. (I admit some of his ideas were a little confusing at times) He himself subsisted on two small meals a day consisting of rice and vegetables, giving him the energy he required for most pursuits, but the lightness of his servings gave him the openness and freedom of thought he required. However, he did mention that when he felt lacking in virility he was inclined to eat the meat of a dog to give him strength. This intrigued me and I asked a myriad of questions pertaining to the preparation of the food and its taste. With a rye grin Blondie then suggested I might like to try this local food for myself, and as he had already invited some friends around for the following evening to partake in this local fare it was already in place and required no organization as it had already been done. With a little trepidation I accepted this kind offer. I would attend the party of emasculated men.
Blondie had built himself a large room at the rear of his uncle's house that acted as studio and bedroom. Standing precariously along the front of the building was a ramshackle, bamboo verandah, its roof made from recycled tin, its bamboo poles tied together by jungle vine. Several of Blondie's guests had arrived and were seated at a long wooden bench that had eight tree stumps utilised as seats. Laying on the bench were a large plastic bowl filled with an aromatic sauce, two bowls of water(no cutlery here)and two palm leaves. Lying over aganst each other on these leaves were forty slithers of meat that steamed in the cool of the evening. I stood looking at these cuts, almost transfixed as I prepared myself psychologically for what I was about to have to do. I must of had a look of fear on my face as I stared at the dish in front me, for just then one of the guests BARKED!! loudly like a dog and I thought my head might hit the flimsy ceiling I jumped that high. Everyone burst into chaotic laughter and it took me a little time to bring my racing heart back to some semblance of normal rhythm.
Seating myself I set my jaw, determined to go through with this experience offered to me. The aroma of the food wafted my way and I was quite surprised at its welcoming flavor. If I wasn't mistaken, dinner smelled an awful lot like beef. The others were all waiting for me to start eating so they could partake in the fare prepared, and so with a trembling hand I reached for the smallest cut I could see. It was right at this time I realized the joke. It wasn't dog, It WAS beef and I turned to look at Blondie with a look of realization as to the joke. Everyone laughed again and piled into dinner.
We had a great night of spicy beef, bintang, music and jokes. On more than one occasion someone would BARK!! loudly like a dog as they passed behind my chair, everytime getting the intended result.
Cheers
Ham