I was sick in Bali last week (tummy troubles), and though I picked up some antibiotics, my Airbnb host mom (who’s pretty much like a homestay mom to me by now) also took me to the temple to pray for “no sick.” She lent me clothes to wear so I could go with her–a lacy shirt, a sarong–special clothing that women wear to go to the temple.
The day before, at the end of a nice chat, her 20-something son had asked me, “So, do I call you ‘miss,’ or…?”
“Uh, either,” I said.
“But… I mean,” he fumbled, perhaps thinking I didn’t understand him. “Are you a girl or a boy?”
“Uh, well… I’m in between.”
He gave a perplexed look.
I smiled. At least I’d tried. “‘Miss.’ You can call me ‘miss.'” Continue reading “Lace and All: A Story from Bali”