Bakso and Etc.

Walking on Jalan Badung this evening, I caught up with a bakso seller pushing his cart along. Of course, he wanted to stop and talk.

"Where are you from?" he says.

"Originally from America."

"Mureeka?"

"No, America. You know, the United States of. USA."

"Oh, America! Barack Obama."

"Well, no. Donald Trump," I say with regret.

"No," the man returns in a definite tone. "No Donald Trump. Barack Obama."

I'm with ya, brother.

So I walk on, but by and by the bakso man catches up to me, along with his cart.

"Wait here, Pak, he says. "This place, drinking drinking, very pretty girls. Lima puluh lima ribu."

"What, for the drink or for the girl."

"The girl, Tuan. They very pretty girl."

"Fifty-five thousand? Five bucks?"

"Yes, very, very pretty."

"No. No thanks, Pak."

"Yes, you try."

"No, no. I already have a very pretty wife."

"No tell wife, Tuan. No worry."

"But that's not the point, Pak. I mean ... Oh well, never mind. Have a good night. Good luck with the bakso."