Strolling though Sanur, Bali, last night I was lucky enough to catch a Balinese dancer informally, that is, not for public showing. – I at first thought she was practising, but that makes it sound like work. It looked more like she was enjoying dancing for no other reason than that she loved it.
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Years ago we were up in the mountains near Tirtaganga at twilight heading for dinner when floating over the terraced and misty hills came the ethereal sound of gamelan.
We followed the sound to a small cluster of buildings, a village I suppose, and tentatively approached not wishing to intrude.
There in a small outbuilding was a group of gamelan players, the village orchestra, teaching a couple of young pre-teenage kids the art.
They welcomed us and we sat with them for an hour or so, fortified by tea, dinner temporarily forgotten, as they patiently explained the skills to the kids.
Then we left, much richer for the experience and heartened by their comraderie.
A nugget in our travels.
Another chance encounter yesterday only a couple of blocks from where I am staying that I had no wish to linger and record on film — a cock-fight. Humans. Angelic and demonic.