I wish you could hear what I hear . . . .

For a woman who has lived in pretty homogeneous societies most of her life, the sounds of BALI are wondrous and fascinating:  Saturday, as the sun is setting, the calling from the mosques rise up to the lodge. Sunday morning, before the Protestants start worship, the Catholics are singing their liturgy. After our worship service, the members of the Hindu church next door begin their rhythmic chanting. At the lodge, mornings and evenings we hear calls of over a hundred different birds living on the grounds, the ubiquitous chickens and roosters, the clanking sound of the wooden bells on the cows next door. We hear the sing-song of “Good morning, Bapak Pastor, Good morning, Ebu”. All day and evening, we hear the constant, polite, short toots of cars and motor scooters, as that is how driving is managed in Bali-the horn is the rule of the road. At dusk, we begin to hear the very big songs of the big lizards, the calls the geckos, the frogs, and the crickets. Many evenings, there are sounds of fireworks for some Hindu family celebration. Then the geckos sing us to sleep.