I’m tired. I want and need to sleep but something’s demanding attention now. I must write about this evening’s delight….
Once in a while I hear music that so fills my heart and soul I need to shout. I’m the English gentleman who claps politely, even enthusiastically upon occasion, but tonight I am barely able to speak. I just returned home from dinner at Made’s Warung. My hoarse voice is partly from joy and partly from shouting (enough to kill it for the evening) in repeated appreciation for the jazz I heard after dinner.
Made’s Warung was the first restaurant/gathering place in Bali for Westerners. It opened in the ’70’s. They have good food, great prices and an atmosphere that promotes chatting from table to table. We went to Made’s Warung II in Seminyak tonight for the above reasons.
Upon entering, I saw the set up for a band and secretly hoped we could eat and be gone before the music began. I felt this sentiment even stronger when we were seated in the front row at the center table. I almost asked to be moved to a back corner as it had been a long and extremely hot day.
My day began with an Internet session from 6:30-8:00am, a breakfast meeting from 8:00-9:00am, and a meeting in the hotel lobby from 9:00-10:00am with my two favorite traders. We haggled over prices for four pieces of excellent tribal art, and then it was off to the first of 10 stores planned for the day. After a day like today, I was pooped and wanted a short and quiet dinner near my hotel.
Halfway through the first song of the first set, I knew I was in love. In my 30’s the only music I would see live was jazz. While I’m not a sophisticated jazz lover, I deeply appreciate a jam that goes deep and wide.
One of the treats of seeing live jazz is witnessing and sharing the joy of the musicians in the creative act. These people were ON! The sax player is said to be the best in Indonesia, the vocalist was akin to Ella Fitzgerald with her range, passion and joy, and the pianist was 10 times better than the best I’ve ever seen. When he really got going, a stage hand would hold one end of the huge electric piano and the vocalist would hold the other end so it wouldn’t collapse from his frenetic playing. While his fingers blurred from moving so fast and beautifully, I found myself laughing out loud with joy. When his hands disappeared from moving so fast, I was on my feet screaming. Well almost. I am still that English gentleman kind of guy.
The beauty of following a thin line of circumstance is a gift. The timing of tonight with the choice of restaurants, the table, and letting go of what I thought I knew I wanted (a quiet corner and a quick dinner) and to end up with an extraordinary gift of music and joy is the lesson to be learned and relearned. What I’m offered in this life is a hundred times better than what I think I want.
