I can see a shaman dancing over the fire, screaming the names of the Indonesian islands, just like a mantra or a spell. It worked, the rain came. Today’s post will be insanely interesting and insanely pretty, with emphasis on insanely.
On the side of a street decorated with large ears there was a lady walking briskly with a forty‑centimetre‑high fruit construction on her head. An old woman on her motorcycle passed her, and she had a tub full of vegetables on her head. A group of people sitting on the threshold had grains of rice stuck to their foreheads. Ubud, the tourist and cultural capital of Bali, was preparing for Kuningan: