The lobby is elegant and huge. As big as half a foot ball field. There are groups of chairs in squares... eight chairs, two each side by side. The chandelier above us is easily 25 ft. across. I notice it and hope it doesn't fall on us - it would surely kill us. Huge ornate statues of some kind of flying dragons watch over us. The lobby is open to the outside air and a breeze is lightly swirling. Buses and taksis (their spelling) are pumping exhaust fumes into the breeze. A man with a security wand is examining every parcel and lump on a body (you may remember the bombing of a Balinese hotel a couple years ago - we have been assured the perpetrators were caught and shot. No tolerance for terrorists here. Please tell your friends Bali is safe.)
We sit in two chairs. No one else is around. We begin talking about woman stuff. Real woman stuff. Babies. Sex. Men. Tiredness. Fear. Guilt.
Then two Indonesian men come into the room - the huge room, and sit in two chairs in our square. They light up cigarettes. Then two more men join them and start talking. They also light up cigarettes. We are all crammed into one square setting of chairs. We are talking about being responsive sexually and they are smoking and talking Indonesia. We are talking quieter and quieter.
Before the whole thing is over ... which means we leave ... there are seven Indonesian men sitting in our small group of chairs... smoking. Did I mention the whole lobby has probably ten such settings of chairs?
Don't for a minute assume the men were there because of us. They totally ignored us. I think it just says something about how they use personal and public space.
Just thought it was a strange moment. Hope they didn't speak English.
