The Ides of March, 2000 (a 3 1/2 minute read)

I asked my driver how long he'd been driving.

"Two years."

Can you make a living?

"Nope."

We stopped for petrol; 20 liters for 20,000. That's not expensive, I said. (7000=$1).

"No, but the government subsidies it. Next month the subsidy stops and the price will go up by ten percent." (It didn't. There were threats of riots. The government backed down.)

You'll have to raise the price of the ride.

"Yes, but that doesn't really help. You see all the money I get goes to pay for the monthly car payment. It's my other job that allows me to live and to hope."

What's that?

"I wash cars."

How many?

"Three. I get up at 6:30 and wash this car and two others."

Reminded me of a telephone conversation earlier that afternoon with someone who has a teak furniture business on a nearby island. "Indonesia has been good to me," he said. "Minimum wage is less than a dollar a day; I pay better than that. I don't exploit them. Imagine having 450 workers and the daily pay is $650. I even have a servant who does nothing but wash my cars. I go into town just after a rainstorm, and when I get back, he washes the car. You should try 'such and such' a restaurant. All the people who are anybody in Bali are there."

I'll stick to my taxi driver--he's somebody, in my book anyway.

Dinner at Amanusa* had been the best Thai meal I have ever had, but somehow I was uncomfortable-it had nothing to do with the food. The driver had waited for me during dinner, and our conversation disturbed me; I was concerned about this boy's future. What would you rather do? I asked.

"Be in the cleaning service business, but the economic collapse..." a lot of conversations I had had recently trailed into silence after that phrase.

Well, what of the future? Do you use a computer; have email?

"Computers and email are still very new here in Bali."

Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Not long after the whales inherit the Earth, it will cease to exist anyway, I said. That profound philosophy hung unchallenged on the humid air as we jerked along, shoulder to shoulder with scores of motorbikers through the tatty, tacky main street of Kuta.

As we neared The Legian, my choice of hotel on this part of the coast, he said, "I used to live in the jungle in a house of bamboo and a sand floor."

Were you happy?

"Yes; that was twelve years ago; The Legian is now where the jungle was."

"Life changes" was the best I could do.

He had picked me up at 7, it was now 10. The bill came to $15. I tipped him another $15-I couldn't help feeling that, for me, it had been a guilt trip.

Well, I suppose you're lucky, I said. You are only 22. (Thinking about it, I'm still not sure I was right.)

*Part of the Aman Resort Group. Dinner was $86 including two glasses of wine, and a cordial accompanied by a trio of Balinese plink-plunking musicians, pool-side; way, way below. The Tom Yum Goong was the best I've ever had, but tread lightly--if sipped too quickly it could really bite. The "hot" green curried duck was smooth and delicious, but not really "hot." Try the good, stir-fried veggies with oyster sauce.

The resort is in Nusa Dua, a gentrified, tourist-groomed, unreal bit of Bali, the other side of the airport from Kuta. The manicured view from the Amanusa's Thai Restaurant extends from the golf course below, to what I guessed was The Hilton, unfortunately spot-lighted, on the too-near horizon. Much more slick than Amanpuri in Phuket or Amandari near Ubud, Amanusa consists of 35 glorious, thatched-roof suites (from US$550), sublime service, and the inevitable crowd of American executives, with a smattering of stylish Japanese. "Did I have a reservation?" Yes, but with one table of 5, one table of two, and me, (alone) no one needed to have been concerned; not many visitors to anywhere in Indonesia this Spring.

Amanusa, Nusa Dua, Bali, Indonesia. Tel: (62 361) 772 333; Fax: (62 361) 772 335. Email: amanusa@amanresorts.com http://www.amanresorts.com

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