With all the growth in the cities, still, about 80% of the people live in the country. It is also quiet there. The people are more authentic and very friendly. The best food I have ever eaten anywhere in the world has been prepared on an open fire, outside, in these small villages.
They met in New York City’s Central Park through some glances and a “feeling”. They caught each other’s eye. One invited the other to sit and eat cantaloupe. After realizing they had so much in common and so much to talk about, they continued…
Within 24 hours of arriving into Bali, I found myself in front of a grieving family home, in a strange village called Sangeh, which is north of Kuta and East of Ubud. I wondered who had died?
Home is a sacred word in America. Probably nowhere in the world is there more emphasis on owning your home, being secure in your home or enjoying a home as in the United States.
This is a story about my mother, a daughter of Malaysia, who became an agent of change. She transcended boundaries of prejudice, age, gender, and race in an era where women were busy in the bedroom rather than the boardroom.
Twenty-eight years after his accident, I was born. And it was during my early childhood years that his mental health started deteriorating – we later found out, when he finally started receiving the correct medical treatment, that with his type of head injury it was the normal progression for the symptoms to start surfacing a few decades later.
The piazza has the town church and elementary school at one end. Next to the church, is the kindergarten and on the other side of the piazza past the garbage bins, recycling containers, plexiglass-covered bus stop, and post box sit a few historic houses.
I put on a new headscarf. I had just completed the third of six treatments and by now my head was nearly bald. A tumor and other complications were found in my right breast earlier in the year…
Big old bracelets, Swiss makes, rings, cuff-links, a few smallish diamonds: Berel Birnbaum carried them in his suitcase when he drove through the dusty, cattle-trodden villages of the Pampas. His customers were always glad to see him.
My name is Susan Karim, I was born in Iraq 27/01/1952. In 1980 there were three reasons that forced me to leave the country; Saddam Hussein, my mother and my mother in law (not necessarily in this order).
