Eat, Pray, Love

Which made us all laugh because Ubud is full of these young guys, these “drivers,” who
sit on every corner and harass passing tourists with the never-ending sales pitch, “Transport?
Transport?” trying to make a buck driving folks out of town to the volcanoes, the beaches or
the temples. Generally speaking, this is a fairly good-looking crowd, what with their fine
Gauguin skin, toned bodies and groovy long hair. You could make a nice bit of money in
America operating a “fertility clinic” for women, staffed with beautiful guys like this. Wayan
says the best thing about her infertility treatment is that the drivers generally don’t even ask
any payment for their sexual transport services, especially if the wife is really cute. Felipe and
I agree that this is quite generous and community-spirited of the fellows. Nine months later a
beautiful baby is born. And everyone is happy. Best of all: “No need to cancel the marriage.”
And we all know how horrible it is to cancel a marriage, especially in Bali.
Felipe said, “My God—what suckers we men are.”
But Wayan is unapologetic. This treatment is only necessary because it’s not possible to
tell a Balinese man that he is infertile without risking that he will go home and do something
terrible to his wife. If men in Bali weren’t like this, she could cure their infertility in other ways.
But this is the reality of the culture, so there it is. She doesn’t have the tiniest shred of bad
conscience about it but thinks it’s just another way of being a creative healer. Anyway, she
adds, it’s sometimes nice for the wife to make sex with one of those cool drivers, because
most husbands in Bali don’t know how to make love to a woman, anyway.
“Most husbands, it’s like roosters, like goats.”
I suggested, “Maybe you should teach sex education class, Wayan. You could teach men
how to touch women in a soft way, then maybe their wives would like sex more. Because if a
man really touches you gently, caresses your skin, says loving things, kisses you all over your
body, takes his time... sex can be nice.”
Suddenly she blushed. Wayan Nuriyasih, this banana-massaging, blad-
der-infection-treating, dildo-peddling, small-time-pimp, actually blushed.
“You make me feel funny when you talk like that,” she said, fanning herself. “This talking, it
makes me feel... different. Even in my underpants I feel different! Go home now, you both.
No more talk like this about sex. Go home, go to bed, but only sleeping, OK? Only SLEEP-
ING!”
Eat, Pray, Love