Southern Hemisphere (Shannon)

Leaving Bali was sad for me. I missed Jon when I was alone for the last week, but I did a lot of writing and ink drawing. Besides, you're never alone in Bali. The family that adopted us was always around. So was the dog who adopted us, Munkin. Munkin means Maybe.

I had fun with our neighbor, Ibu Gill, a septagenarian South African Grand Dame, who is a successful photojournalist (Gillian Marais). We watched dvds and went to the endless temple ceremonies, which got wilder every night, culminating with Barong running amok when his spirit possessed the dancers. Gill came along when Wayan drove me to the airport. We said we won't say good-bye because I'll be back.

Hong Kong was hot and steamy, a pushy place for gettin' and spendin'. It's the only place I've ever been where the airport has more character than the city. But to prove Ibu Gill wrong ("The Chinese have no sensibilities at all!"), I spent the day in the Hong Kong museum looking at chilly ancient jade and centuries of ink paintings. I watched videos of old men painting in that meditative, decisive style. If you're ever stuck in a yucky foreign city, I recommend the good museum.

LA was shocking, culturally, all that speed and light and cellphone yakking. We had a great time with my sister Carrie and her husband John, eating the fast food and swimming in de pool. Got to hear my soon-to-be niece's heartbeat on ultrasound. It's a jazz show in there.

Now we're in Buenos Aires, a comfy European-feeling city (it's winter!), eating the beef and checking out the tango. Will we dance? More will be revealed.