Bali walk in the country

  We went for a walk at 10 AM, already in the 90's. The old man with the wheel barrow was barefoot, the pavement too hot to touch. I guess he was used to it. We wandered out into the rice paddies where our hotel had paid the farmers for guest access (. 50 cents). The government has paid for occasional concrete paths thru the paddies enabling the farmers to travel on their motor bikes. The 1000 year old paddies were sprinkled with small Hindu shrines to encourage good crops. 

  The rice takes a huge amount of labor, all by hand, with plowing done by water buffalo. The occasional man or woman all said hello. They spoke no English but understood and smiled when I said we were Americans.  ( we are very rare here, most tourists are European or Australian). Their isolated houses were scattered here and there. 

   The paddies were full of  brilliant crimson colored dragon flies and tiny birds, half the size of chickadees. The cool water flowing through the irrigation ditches was crystal clear and alive with minnows and small red crabs. My guess is they don't use insecticides. 

  Very little has changed for these people in hundreds of years. Their slow pace of life and few possessions is so different from us. It made me wonder who we are. 

  Grandma washed her Sarong in the brook running down the side of the road. Out of respect I photographed her from behind . She has seen so much change here, from Japanese occupation during WW 2 to the influx of us tourists. I wish I could have talked with her.