collapsed JL hose miserable prudes the Javanese made the Balinese women cover their breasts decades the afternoon. Sparrow later tells Monkey that Coyote is wealthier than he lets on, neglecting to mention how she knows. Bali shimmers in the heat, awaiting monsoon rains. The rice paddies shrivel yellow. A farmer carries green forage to his buffalo, tethered to a palm. One day when Monkey returns from the beach he finds Sparrow’s pack gone. He questions broad, bovine Water Buffalo, who runs the losman, and learns that Coyote has lugged English Sparrow’s backpack away, Sparrow flitting at his side. “Foreign people come, foreign people go,” Water Buffalo comments disapprovingly. “Prolly go ‘nothah losman.” ■are, the sere ong-delayed inward. In the cinder cones poke jaggedly up, and on their flank a new crater smokes ominously. The lake is five miles tong and two wide, but looks no more than a crescent-shaped mud-puddle at one edge of the vast pit. Coyote and Monkey hike down into the depths, under a burning sun. As they descend the world turns grey, charcoal and black, under an indigo sky. There is ago. Only girls before puberty and old women with withered dugs are occasionally seen uncovered. This girl refuses to admit she is pubescent, though her breasts are ripe pears. paddies are bro earth thirsting monsoon^ Only 2,000-foi Monkey is thoroughly annoyed by this perfidy. When next he sees Coyote, he raves long and loud. “Don’t be silly, Monkey,” Coyote replies, “Sparrow is a bird of passage; you could never have 'hoped to keep her.” _M iita is small. They keep meeting. Encountered atone, Coyote almost apologizes. “English Sparrow begged me to carry her away,” he tells Monkey. “I’d never set out to pinch a fellow traveler’s baggage. But you have to admit that only a fool would turn down such a well-feathered creature. Didn’t you yourself pry Sparrow loose from a Kiwi in Adelaide?” Monkey visits them at their new losman, closer to the sea. Lusa Losman is a traditional compound of bamboo and banana fronds, 14 rooms around a courtyard exploding with scent-rich blossoms. Monkey takes a room. He waves to the lovers from his morning bananas and tea. Sparrow is painting her toenails crimson to match her new scarlet sarong. The happy couple go off to Ubud, the artists’ town, intending to continue to Mt. Agung, a vast volcano the Balinese claim is the navel of the world. Several days later Coyote returns atone. As Coyote tells it, they argued about nothing at all, and Sparrow disappeared with doltish Ox, who’d been mooing his devotion through the alleys and galleries of Ubud. When Coyote returns to Lusa Losman all the rooms are taken. He persuades Monkey to let him use the other bed in his room. At night they hear melodious wooden cow bells. The gekko calls “gekko, gekko, gekko." In the distance, dogs bark. Monkey and Coyote cautiously become friends again. They decide to go back up to Ubud, to buy art and view volcanoes and continue on to the north coast. But before they depart, Monkey turns haggard and sweaty. They have seen other travelers sicken. It is dengue fever, also called breakbone. The victim squirms and sweats, too weak to move, too pained to lie still. After five days the attack passes. Travelers who consult a doctor are given aspirin and sent to rest in bed. Pain wracked and gushing sweat, Monkey sits up wide-eyed and begs Coyote not to leave him. “ I know you want to get to the mountains,” he groans, “but stay with me until I get on my feet again. Don’t leave me atone here.” Eight thousand miles from home, and still feeling vaguely guilty, how could Coyote leave? He brings Monkey pitchers of water and changes the sopping towels, fetches soda-pop from the nearby warung, finds aspirin, and walks clear into Kuta seeking milk. Monkey babbles and writhes in fever dreams. Coyote mops his brow. Coyote preaches himself a sermon about doing good without expecting a reward. He forgets his trickster ways and plays the hero full time. After five days Monkey sits up from damp twisted sheets, smiles wanly. He takes a cool shower. Later that day he toddles to the warung for orange soda and a grilled cheese sandwich. Soon he is well enough to travel and they zoom up to Ubud. There they meet English Sparrow on the street, wearing a stunning new purple dress barely held up by spaghetti straps, her toenails sparkling gold. Sparrow walks beside a tall, dark-haired Frog, practicing her French. Coyote rolls his eyes and licks his chops theatrically. “I’d take you back anytime,” he tells her. “I’m having a lovely time flitting about,” Sparrow replies. Ljynte and Monkey head toward Mt. Batur, a huge crater lake up- country. They climb toward Penelokan, high on the rim of the volcano. The rice only a little scrub vegetation and the heat reflects in shimmering waves from the encircling walls. Coyote and Monkey begin to argue. How fast should they go and which direction; should they take a canoe or a motorboat? Visiting an aboriginal village on the lake, Monkey disappears for an hour, while Coyote frets. When Monkey returns he borrows dollars from Coyote for a mysterious deal. The natives stare at Coyote. Their dead ancestors rot in bamboo cages at the nearby cemetery. Monkey returns, laughing and scratching. He claims he will share his good trade on money with Coyote. “Why are you sulking, Coyote?” he wants to know. After bitter argument they finally direct the canoeman across the hammered- pewter lake to Toyabungkah village. Girls come to the school there to learn the Legong Dance, most graceful and feminine of the Balinese dances, performed exclusively by young girls. From up the hill Coyote and Monkey hear gamelan music. But they are hot and tired, and there is a hotspring pool at the edge of the lake. They will bathe first. As they recline in steaming water, a bare-breasted girl comes down. Those miserable prudes the Javanese made the Balinese women cover their breasts decades ago. Only THE NATIONAL LAWYERS GUILD 50 Years Fighting for Social Justice National lawyers Guild • 853 Broadway, Room 1705 New York, NY 10003 • 212-260-1360 James Canfield Artistic Director Available for Touring PACIFIC BALLET THEATRE (503) 235-2229 1119 SW Park Avenue, Portland, Oregon 97205 10 Clinton St. Quarterly
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