评论
打印
"I think three months enough time to teach you Balinese meditation, find God for you this way," he says. "Maybe four months. You like Bali?"
"I love Bali."
"You get married in Bali?" "Not yet."
"I think maybe soon. You come back tomorrow?"
I promise to. He doesn't say anything about my moving in with his family, so I don't bring it up, stealing one last glance at the scary wife in the kitchen. Maybe I'll just stay in my sweet hotel the whole time, instead. It's more comfortable, anyway. Plumbing, and all that. I'll need a bicycle, though, to come see him every day . . .
"I am very happy to meet you," he says, shaking my hand.
I offer up my first English lesson. I teach him the difference between "happy to meet you," and "happy to see you." I explain that we only say "Nice to meet you" the first time we meet somebody. After that, we say "Nice to see you," every time. Because you only meet someone once. But now we will see each other repeatedly, day after day.
He likes this. He gives it a practice round: "Nice to see you! I am happy to see you! I can see you! I am not deaf!"
This makes us all laugh, even Mario. We shake hands, and agree that I will come by again tomorrow afternoon. Until then, he says, "See you later, alligator."
"In a while, crocodile," I say.
"Let your conscience be your guide. If you have any Western friend come to Bali, send them to me for palm-reading—I am very empty now in my bank since the bomb. I am an autodidact. I am very happy to see you, Liss!"
"I am very happy to see you, too, Ketut." Eat, Pray, Love
