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Published: September 13th 2009
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It only took us about two weeks to learn everyone in Bali's first name, and really it probably shouldn't have taken that long. There's a simple naming system that all the native Balinese use and it goes like this: first child is Wayan, second child is Made, third is Koman, fourth is Ketut. After the fourth, the system repeats, so number five is Wayan, number six is Made, etc. For a boy you insert "I" at the front of the name, for a girl "Ni". So if a family has a boy and then a girl, their names would be IWayan and NiMade. As it turns out, though, the "I" and "Ni" prefixes that determine gender are dropped in all but the most formal cases.
You might think, "well, these are probably just traditions and they probably have other names." And to some extent it's true; some people have nicknames and introduce themselves with the those instead, but the majority will say, "Hi, my name is Wayan." At times this naming system can be inconvenient. Say your supposed to meet someone at a restaurant called Restaurant Wayan. There could easily be four on the same street. Or if you're trying to find someone:
Sam: "Hey, where's Made? He told us to meet him here."
Guy 1: "I'm Made, you want transport?"
Sam: "No, I'd like to talk with Made. The other Made."
Guy 2: "I'm Made. You want taksi?"
Sam: "Uhhh...ok, I don't want any kind of transport. I want to stand right here, but I'd like to talk with Made. The one I talked to before."
Girl 1: "I'm Made, you want Maaaassaaaage?"
Sam: "Jesus, no. Forget it. I'm just gonna leave."
Guy 1: "Yes?"
Sam: "What?"
Guy 1: "You want transport?"
Sam: "Really? No, I don't want transport."
Guy 1: "Yes?"
Sam: "No!"
To put this all in another way, if Americans used this naming system, at the Buckley family Christmas there would be five Wayan Buckleys and four Made Buckleys. We finally sorted this all out by the time we got to Amed on the far east coast of Bali. Amed, by Bali standards, is remote. It's really just a string of hotels, dive shops and cafes strewn across long stretches of black sand beaches. We spent our time there in Amed cruising around on our rented scooters, snorkeling the untouched reefs literally 5 meters off the beach and diving at old WWII shipwreck. To disclose the full history of the ship I'll paraphrase Sam Fuchs' response to any and every local who asked in their limited English "What you do in Amed?" "We went and scuba dived to see the USS Liberty. After it was torpedoed by the Japanese in WWII, the ship was towed to shore to salvage parts and the cargo. It sat on the beach until 1963 when the volcano erupted and pushed it back out to sea, where it presently sits, mangled and about 15-40 meters below the ocean."
Another sort of silly antectdote about Amed, I had been there back in 1992 when my parents took me there. Back then the Vienna Beach Bungalows was the ONLY business on the entire 10-15 km stretch of beach out there. As luck would have it, this time around we stayed in the hotel directly across the street from the now much more posh version of Vienna Beach. Thinking people might be surprised to hear that someone had been in there little village some 17 years ago when there was almost nothing there, we told many people. The response to this little story was unanimous: complete and utter disinterest. No one could have cared the slightest bit. We'd be having a conversation with someone:
Wayan: "California is very nice place."
Sam: "Yeah, I really like it, but Bali is fantastic too."
Wayan: "It good for beach, for snorkeling, but not for money."
Caitlin: "Do you like like living in Amed?"
Wayan: "Yes, yes. There are many good people here and good fishing."
Sam Fuchs: "Hey, guess what? My friend (pointing at me) stayed right there (pointing at Vienna Beach Bungalows) 17 years ago. In 1992. He was eight years old."
Wayan: (Utterly bored by this piece of information) "Mmmmh..."
Sam Fuchs: "Right. No big deal."
Wayan: "Mmmh..."
We had some form of this conversation more than five times before I stopped trying to impress the locals.
After Amed we headed out to terrible Kuta for a night before catching a plane. Kuta is hardly worth mentioning. It's like Australia's version of Tijuana. After two planes, and an awkward massage in the Jakarta airport, we arrived in Kota Ambon, where were planning on catching a Pelni boat later that day out to some outlying islands. While in the waiting room at the port, it kind of dawned on us that this wasn't going to be like taking the Golden Gate Transit from Larkspur to the City. People were packing massive boxes/bags of what can best be described simply as "goods". Near the front sat a pile of probably over a thousand eggs someone was planning on bringing aboard. Other people had overstuffed bags the size of those green exercise balls full of onions, garlic, cabbage, and other miscellaneous produce.
When the ship finally approached the pier, an army of porters seized the ship like rabid pirates. Passengers were trying to disembark, but the onrush of porters, fighting for position, forced people back onto the boat. When we finally made it aboard, we realized what the mad rush was all about. The majority of passengers by the "Ekonomi" tickets, which means, you don't get a seat. I don't mean like Southwest where you don't get an assigned seat, you just don't get a seat. So you and your one thousand eggs and 150 pounds of onions and cabbage have to fight for a prized piece of real estate on the boat. In the end, every bit of floor space on this boat the size of a small luxury cruise ship is taken by families and what seems to be all their worldly possessions. Most stairwells on the ship were impassable due to the clusters of people and "goods" stacked to the ceiling. For this overnight ride, we had wisely chosen to spring for a 26 dollar first class seat which entitled us to our own private cabin with beds and a bathroom. Whenever we left our little room though, we had to climb over sleeping bodies and kids' bikes that were lining the narrow corridors. Walking out to the open areas of the ship was like walking through bustling street market complete with the stink of body odor and that sweet, wet garbage smell that the durian fruits give off. In the end, the epic journey ended up justifying itself.
-Sam
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Cecilia
non-member comment
Who am I?
I know who I am. I am NIKOMAN. But you can call me Koman. Caitlin is named after me. She is Nikoman. Sam, thank god you are Made. Thank God, Bob is Made too. Thank God , Conor is Made. Meeghan and Rory are unique. They are Wayan and Ketut. Did you know that is why we only had 4 children, I would have been very confused with two Wayan's. Two Made's are enough. I would like to know about last names please. Ce Ce