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Story of Bali, Indonesia

tale harrowing thus far, let me add another pinch of poignancy to the plot - everyone on the hotel staff came from nearby Penestanan
When the news leaked out - it always does in Bali - that a, foreign duck was to be smuggled into the hotel - and, worse still, eaten there - the staff's reaction was akin to that of a Rabbi confronting a pig at a Barmitzvah Outposts kept vigil in the front office and when my visitor stepped out of her car, closely followed by a servant bearing a greasestained cardboard box, the aimosphere could have been sliced and packaged for export.
But to procced

The introductions over my guest now seated at a table in the crowded dining room, beckoned to her servant, plunged her hands into the box and, with a tinkling little laugh, held high the dish and its contents for admiration. "Now you will taste real Balinese food. No-one can smoke a duck like this man in Denpasar."

I sincerely hoped nobody could, since the sinister black shape on the dish looked more like a chunk of firewood than food.

Seeing it, the stunned look began to fade from staff faces. Now they understood - the visitor was having a little joke with Nyonya Eager to join in the fun, they hurried forward carrying an array of tasty dishes - rice, sate, frogs legs, bean shoots. My guest firmly waved them all aside and called for a carving knife. Dismay again enveloped the dining room staff. Use a knife of betutu Sacrilege But then, this imposter was no betutu - far from it.
Oblivious to any tension, my visitor began to carve. At the first price of the knife, the blackened body slid skittishly across the dish and threatened to land in my lap. At the next attempt, the duck, now apparently getting into the swing of things, bounced out from under the knife, and lurched towards my guest. When the knife struck a third time, it decided to call it a day, skimmed merrily off the dish, to land with a plop! on the table, showering us both with a fine spattering of black ash.

It was at this point that the staff dumped a few bowls of vegetables on our table - and unanimously declared it a disaster area. The more emotional ones went into trance.

The guests, of course, voted us better than a floor show. There was soon not an empty seat in the room. And, in case you are thinking that wretched duck never was dismembered, let me disillusion you. Undeterred, my still composed visitor stood up and resorted to tearing off chunks with her ringed fingers. It is only fair to add, though, that such portions as reached my plate were hastily interred under a shroud of vegetables and left severely alone.

Not surprisingly, the bulk of the bird was still intact at the end of the meal. Calling for Sana, my houseboy, my visitor instructed him to store it carefully in the icebox, so I could enjoy yet anotherserve of delicious Denpasar Duck.

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