'I have to pee,' was the first thing this old Balinese man said to me, standing from his bamboo mat with great effort.
I had been waiting two hours to see this guy and now I was listening to him urinate on the other side if his ornately carved teak and marble wall. It was an inauspicious way to start things off.
He wobbled back and said, 'Where are you from? Oh, I have a lot of friends in USA! You have lips like sugar... Did you read my book?'
He pulled out a brown, sweaty hardcover of 'Eat, Pray, Love' and said 'I not understand this. Can you explain?'
He made me read the paragraph describing him out loud. 'It says you look like Yoda - do you know Star Wars?'
He gave me a glaucoma-glazed stare and I realized that was a stupid question. 'Ok, um, it says you're small, it says you're old, it says you don't have any teeth. But it's not true because I can see you have one tooth left!' I gave him my brightest, most enthusiastic American smile.
Blankness.
'That no make sense,' and he pulled out a letter. 'Please, you American, please. Tell me what this mean.'
It was a letter from Elizabeth Gilbert that basically said: Dear toothless small man, I heard you were sick but now you're better, that's nice. Thanks for teaching me about love (and making me an effing millionaire!!!). Love, Liz
'Um, she loves you and she is thanking you for being her spiritual master? Like, you know, a professor of love? Heh.'
'No no, she no love me! I married!'
I sighed. Now I had to pee. 'Do you know about Google Translator?'
Finally, he started in on my fortune telling. (Hey, if everybody is already comparing me to Julia Roberts, I should embrace my inner cliche and just ride my bicycle through the damn rice paddy already!)
'You very smart. You very pretty! You impatient. You very quick!'
My palm also told him I'd live to 100, have one husband, two children and no divorce.
'Well, what about a job? I'll need a new one eventually.'
'What job you have now?'
'I don't. I quit.'
'You no worry. You have one husband, two children, no divorce. Also, when you in night bed with husband, you make sex three times daily, very good.'
Um...
'I'm sorry, could you repeat that?'
He grinned with that one, yellowed canine hanging, suicidal, from black gums.
'Um, ok, but I don't really want kids... Can you see anything else? Like, I don't know, some sort of purpose?'
Because I have lotus flowers on my scapula, Yoda says I'm fertile and will have children.
'Come on, you make me happy! You meet handsome boy and marry for no divorce and two kids.'
Jesus. I was starting to understand why Liz Gilbert's book frustrated me so much - her guru is a one-trick pony, the trick being he tells me the inevitable life purpose he thinks every woman should have and I give him $25 to annoy me.
I should really stick to reading my aura, at least there are pretty colors involved.
Twenty minutes later, I watched the next girl in line spring up to see Kutut Liyer, spiritual master of staying on message.
'Where you from? Oh, I have a lot of friends in Canada! You have lips like sugar... You read my book?'
