2/10/2015. This morning I took Max to a basketweaving lesson from a young woman in the neighboring village. Her name was Nyoman. I ended up staying to interpret her directions, since for the first half hour it seemed like she only knew five words of English. Then once he got into the groove, she turned to me and asked:
“You have husband?”
“Yes. You?”
“No. I have broken heart. I love the man, but the man have family. He hide but I find.”
“Oh. Wow. When did you discover this?”
“Five years now. Life hard for long time.”
Five years. I thought about the directions she had given my son. Over, under, turn the corner. Over, under, turn the corner. Over, under, turn the corner. Over, under, turn the corner. Now repeat the other way. On the one hand, very meditative. On the other, she always ends up right back where she started.
Art: for the obsessive.
Here are some examples of local weaving.
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