TravelStream™ news feed for member robinred on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/robinred en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 06 Apr 2008 08:04:58 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robinred/2/1207483020/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robinred/2/1207483020/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/robinred/2/1207483020/tpod.html Sun, 06 Apr 2008 08:04:58 -0400 Revisiting paradise - a Bali sojourn

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Munduk, Indonesia

After Medewi Beach, Tarita and I jumped on a local bus and spent four interesting hours weaving around the coastline getting to Munduk. The entire ride cost us about $7 each. After haggling with some locals at the last bemo stop to get us up the hill to Munduk, we finally secured a driver who would take us (with the help of an honest local working on our side!). Munduk is a beautiful, quiet, idyllic place in mist-covered mountains and jungle passes through many small villages. After a great full body massage at an adjoining hotel, we booked our trek for the next day. We stayed at a Dutch homestay called Meme Surung which was 100 times better than the Medewi Hotel for about $5 extra. The trek took us down and around rice paddies, up muddy slopes, through villages with barking dogs, goats and many cows. The two-hour walk from the hotel got us up to the 1,000 year-old Banyan tree at the top of the mountain, the biggest in Bali. It is sacred and the cave inside is often used for prayer. Down the hill again, through a river used for bathing and then up again to the main road. The rain started pelting before we got there so we were nicely hot and wet by the end. We rewarded ourselves with some magnificent chicken satay from a trolley man on the side of the road for $1 which gave us about 20 sticks each and some sticky rice. Well worth it and I'm still feeling fine!
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Medewi Beach, Indonesia

Tarita and I headed off to Medewi Beach on the west coast of Bali for some surfing. We stayed at a very modest (!) hotel but the beach was right on the doorstep. The first morning we made our way down to the black sand amongst fishing boats on the beach and had to walk across rocks which gave us some cheap foot reflexology. The paddle out was long but we made our way to a nice beach break where I got in a couple of good waves. Tarita was saving up for the reef break and got a good share of waves.
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Ubud, Indonesia

On a sabbatical in Bali, the first book to read is the bestseller 'Eat, Pray, Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert. Through brilliant marketing and a good sales network, this book has found itself in the hands of most tourists who come to Bali. The relevant section is 'Love' set in the Balinese mountain village of Ubud. Liz, the writer, finds herself on a quest for enlightenment and spends most of her four months in Ubud visiting Ketut Liyer, a healer and fortune teller of a venerable age who spends his days officiating at the many Balinese ceremonies and healing the masses who come to his door each day. I won't go into her particular journey here; suffice to say that this man is enjoying movie star status and his reputation has spread worldwide. On my recent trip to Ubud, I thought it would be interesting to see if I could find this man and have my own 'enlightening experience' in his presence. I'd forgotten his name so asked the manager of my modest hotel. Yes he knew the man who was on the speaking circuit at hospitals and very well known. Did he know where to visit him? We discovered that the man at reception had visited him to cure an ailment and an offer of ride was soon forthcoming. My friend, Christine, and I headed for two motorbikes and after twisting and turning down the usual circuitous routes in Ubud, we came upon a shingle 'Ketut Liyer, painter and woodcarver'. He appeared to be a man of many talents.

We were directed to an old stained sofa and told that the great man was at a wedding and due to return in 20 minutes. This stretched out to about an hour and a half, during which time we spent talking to his son, an art teacher, and looking at his detailed Balinese drawings. I'd heard that a donation was sufficient for his services and to confirm this I asked Nyoman. He said 200,000 Rp would be a good amount but whatever we could afford was acceptable. Finally the great man appeared in the carved doorway of his home. Gandhiesque in long white robes, the old man came towards us, showing his one tooth smile in a dark brown face.
'I am very pleased you have come,' he said and asked if he could have breakfast before seeing us.

More time was spent looking at the home temple, wedding photos of his son Nyoman's children, and the homestay at the back of the family compound. Finally Ketut was ready to see us and we were beckoned to sit on a woven mat near a doorway. A little girl who turned out to be Ketut's great granddaughter was ushered forward and wanted to show us her own paintings in a child's sketch block. Colourful pastel drawings of her friends, mountains and houses greeted us. I did the dutiful thing and said they were beautiful. When she said, 'Would you like to buy?' I said no, thank you and quickly gave them back.

Ketut sat down in front of us, pulled out 'Eat, Pray, Love' from a chest and asked if I'd read the book.
'So what does Liz say about me in the book?' His English was not good enough to read so I told him a few things she tells about him in the book. He seemed satisfied and directed himself to Christine as first off the rank. He asked what she did for a job. She told him she was an art teacher and manager. He then looked at her ear, nose and mouth and said she was a 'good girl, a smart girl'. Palm was next which revealed she would have plenty of money, be rich, get married soon and if she wanted to make a good match she should pay US$200 for one of his paintings he called his 'magic love painting'. A sideways glance from her revealed her displeasure at this outcome and she told him she couldn't afford it. He said that was fine that she would still have good luck, get married and be rich. I pushed her to ask him to heal her frozen shoulder. He studied it and said, 'Call a doctor.' At the request that he heal it, he said, 'I cannot, you should do yoga.' Good advice but not a psychic healer's advice.

Then it was my turn. Apparently Christine and I have very similar destinies as I was also going to be rich, get married soon and have lots of luck. I was also a 'good smart girl' but he didn't offer me the 'magic love painting'. It was time to pay. I handed over 100,000 Rp ($10) for his time, made the hands together thank you gesture all Balinese expect and we bid our farewells.

Our guru had let us down but had told us what he thought we wanted to hear. I just wonder how his reputation has spread or if, at the age of 87, his healing abilities have finally expired.
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Kuta, Indonesia

Photos of me surfing at Kuta Beach. Yes I know teeny tiny waves but look at the ones behind... I'd just finished surfing a big roller!
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Nusa Lembongan, Indonesia

Christne and I had a weekend getaway to Nusa Lembongan, an island off the east coast of Bali. It has white sand beaches, no cars and is a lovely quiet place to go snorkelling, swimming and not much else.
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Seminyak, Indonesia

These are the people who have been sharing my journey!
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Seminyak, Indonesia

Copied from http://www.klubkokos.com/guidebook/nyepi.htm

Determined by the Lunar (Saka) Calendar if Bali, Nyepi (Balinese New Year) falls on the day after the new moon that occurs somewhere between mid-March & mid-April each year. Nyepi is perhaps the most unique of all festivals celebrated in Bali, as the whole island comes to a standstill on this particular day. Visitors to Bali at this time of the year definitely need to be aware of the day of Nyepi, as they will not be able to go anywhere on this day, but rather spend time relaxing around their place of accommodation.

The most interesting part of Nyepi for visitors is the visual spectacles of ogoh-ogoh (monsters) created by many of the villages throughout Bali to be used as a part of a huge island-wide exorcism on the eve of Nyepi. The youth of the various village banjar (local council areas) take great delight in competing with the neighbouring villages to create the most gruesome and terrifying-looking ogoh-ogoh in the month preceding Nyepi.

In Ubud all the different banjar youth excitedly gathered by each of their creations in the late afternoon on the eve of Nyepi to proudly lead their ogoh-ogoh through the central intersection down to the soccer field on Monkey Forest Road. With all the noise & commotion of a cremation ceremony these were lead one by one into this open area, where the rest of the community & visitors to the area could wander between them all to marvel at the ferociousness achieved by their creators.

As well as each group escorting their creation being decked out in fine new uniforms, many of the ogoh-ogoh were accompanied by their local gamelan players for greater impact, & these groups put on a further demonstration of their music one by one on the soccer field for the crowds of people who had come to watch.

About 20 different ogoh-ogoh of all different shapes & sizes were presented in this year's parade in Ubud. At dusk, after a group of village elders had assessed each creation & given a speech praising the skills of those involved, the ogoh-ogoh began to move out one by one once more towards the village centre, before branching off to each of their individual areas of Ubud.

Hundreds of people gathered at the central crossroads of Ubud, where each of the ogoh-ogoh lurched crazily through the crowd. Officials guiding them along their path were careful to make sure that no two ogoh-ogoh made any sort of physical contact during this time, as with the Balinese spirits running high, this might lead to friction between the two groups.

Once the ogoh-ogoh have returned to their area of the village, parading down all the side streets, it is eventually either consumed by a huge bonfire in the central crossroads of the village, or nowadays more often 'defrocked', i.e. stripped of its finery so that some of the materials may then be reused in the following year.

All over Bali, on the eve of Nyepi all the effigies of the gods from the village temples are also taken in long & colourful processions to the river to be ritually bathed. Then after sunset the exorcism of the island starts, firstly within the house compound, where special offerings accompanied by fire & holy water are delivered to every corner of the compound, accompanied by loud banging & clanging, & also as much noise as the vocal chords can handle. Once the exorcism of evil has been accomplished within the home, people then move out onto the streets, many accompanying the terrifying ogoh-ogoh as they roam the neighbourhood with as much revelry as they can muster. The final meeting place in the central crossroads of the village sees huge offerings being burnt after the special prayers by the village priest for the cleansing of the whole village. For weeks before the eve of Nyepi, you can hear fire crackers & the loud retorts of exploding bamboo 'cannons' being set off at night, & this will continue this evening well into the wee hours, before all gradually settles into an all-pervading peace to greet the dawn of Nyepi.

On the day of Nyepi (literally meaning 'silence') the whole of Bali lies still. There is no one out on the streets, nothing opens in the way of shops or offices, the sound of traffic is nonexistent. This Day of Silence is where the world has been cleansed & everything starts anew. With the religious prohibitions of
mati lelangon (no pleasure)
mati lelungan (no traffic)
mati geni (no fire) and
mati pekaryan (no work)
beginning at sunrise & continuing for the next 24 hours, all you will hear is the occasional barking of dogs or the shrill of insects. You will not be allowed to go anywhere on this day, but rather relax at your place of accommodation, enjoying the peace & quiet of an otherwise bustling island.
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Seminyak, Indonesia

Dressed in white; the women are the most beautiful. White transparent fabric splattered with lace at the sides join at the middle with textured hooks. Underneath, colours adorn breasts hiding behind a shimmering façade. The men wear proud black and white bandanas encircling each head some adorned with frangipani at back, nesting. Below is the long colourful silk sarong, wrapping the flesh, protecting. Children glisten like glow worms in a rice paddy, their smiles decorating the fading light of afternoon.

All sitting, waiting. Sitting on their crossed legs, eyes imbibing the guru and his chants. He shakes his considerable gut, an over-padded taxi driver in a lion's head. A dynamic changes. A woman screams. People around come to her side, her quivering, gyrating body acting like an electric cable gone wild. Two men catch her at both sides and guide her away from the crowd like bouncers at a rock concert. She continues to scream, head flies back, open mouth sucking in the oncoming evening air. More women scream and are taken away; an ambulance waits in a side gang, hovering like a hungry shark. Several men begin the religious fit, and are taken away by smiling bodyguards. The thick wet air of the afternoon turns sodden as night flows freely. It is damp but no rain appears on the night when the monsters come out.

***
Purple, winged, teeth of a dinosaur, fingernails like canoes, sharp and angry. Scythe-wielding death is creeping out of his coffin attacked in the stomach by a smaller demon dressed in the rags of an ancient mummy. Constructed by young men or families out of paper and glue and later painted and dressed in gaudy silks, these colourful Asian shreks present evil and danger to passing ghosts, letting the spirits know not to enter a faux hell. The huge godzillas are dragged from every street corner, small gangs off major roads, and tiny driveways of private dwellings to be fastened to rafts of bamboo and carried aloft by hordes of children, chanting their song of despair. The monsters meander snake-like down the main street sometimes stopping for a fight between two or to shake a lolling head as mace to the gods.

***
The day has passed and the flying ghosts of the air are tricked into believing the land is inhabited by creatures more dangerous than they; the festival is a success. The monoliths of the spirit world created by the human world continue their journey to the sea accompanied by the chanting of children, cymbals and firesticks; the snake makes its way to the beach where the creatures are put together for rest. Men, women and children encircle the paper beasts, their once-powerful presence now numbed by the fire that will destroy them. The firesticks approach, reach in, spark the light of life's essence, thrown into the melting teeth, nails and heads of the paper monsters.
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Seminyak, Indonesia

I headed out from the villa in time for the celebrations to start on Jalan Legian. Having spent all but 20,000Rp ($2), my first stop was the ATM at Circle K. Closed. Someone said all the ATMs were closed. It is a holiday similar to our New Year so this was not unexpected (although I didn't expect it). I walked down the street to the next ATM, also closed. Amazingly, all traffic had stopped. There was not a single taxi in sight (on its own an amazing phenomenon). I asked a man on a motorbike if he would take me there - I had 20,000Rp I could give him. He said he could. I jumped on the back of his bike, no helmet and one hand on the grab rail between me and death. Streets were blocked off for the ceremony and street parade so we had to twist and turn through tiny gangs (lanes) at the back of places I never even knew existed. At one gang, a car had to pass by so closely, I felt its metal lightly brush my leg.

The driver dropped me off at the Bintang supermarket. I paid him my last notes. Having spotted a circle of tourists, I made my way to find the purification ceremony in progress. Hundreds of Balinese in white sat on the road transfixed by a shaking guru wearing a lion's head. Soon people were being carried away, in an obvious state of distress screaming and gyrating. It reminded me of religious 'healings'. I knew the 'victims' were playacting as many of the audience were smiling at their friends' 'performance'. Suddenly everyone rose and entered the temple. Some time passed before guides made an appearance, carrying gongs, colourful umbrellas and baskets of offerings on their heads. The procession started and we all followed as they made their way down the street. The first phase had ended. The monsters would come later. A street parade was to be held later in the evening to display the Ogoh Ogoh (giant papier mache sculptures to ward off evil spirits).

Starting to feel the pangs of hunger and knowing I now had no cash, I looked around to find a restaurant that would take a credit card. There were limited places open and none took credit. I found one warung, told the manager I had no cash but did he take credit card.
'No, of course not! But don't worry, have a meal anyway. We have just opened!' He let me choose some beans and tofu in sauce, chicken legs and a beef pattie with rice. And a diet coke. The best value dinner I've had since I've been here! I thanked him for his generosity and he told me to go and wait by the side of the road to watch the monsters.

I found a nice marble seat and waited. Bali time is like Nepal time, and Mexico time. Things happen when they happen; wait and be patient. I started talking to a young Aussie man who said he was working as a landscape architect on properties owned by his sister. Didn't I know there was a building boom going on in Bali? She owned the Canggu Club; did I know it? I had been there for a literary lunch the previous week and found an international standard country club for expats and their children. Luxurious and expensive, this place was magnificent. Not only did she own the Canggu Club but many other developments around Bali, in New Zealand and Hong Kong. This woman had to be famous and supremely busy. She's also adopted two Balinese babies. I said I was vaguely thinking about buying a property and he said to contact his sister. She'd be happy to give me advice. He took me to the villa around the corner where he was staying with his sister and I entered another magical place, modern kitchen, open Balinese style dining area with a resort-style pool and Balinese bale - all her own design. He gave me her number and we headed back to the parade. The Ogoh Ogoh had passed so I thanked him and quickly ran to catch up with the parade. The night continued for hours, following the many monsters in all their colours, the children and the fire carriers. Every now and then two Ogoh Ogoh would stop borne by many young men holding a bamboo raft-like structure. They would then run head on into each other, shake the raft and make the Ogoh Ogoh fight. The sweat was pouring off these young men by the end of the night.

I followed the Ogoh Ogoh back to their resting places along the road. I had been told it was a 20-minute walk back along the beach to Seminyak. Thinking there would be hordes of people doing the same thing, I headed to Double Six beach. Not a soul and a pitch black beach beckoned. Just as I was pondering taking the long walk back via the road, a man on a motorbike stopped and offered me a lift. I told Wayan I had no money, he said don't worry, he was a security guard and surfing instructor and would take me back to my villa. After he dropped me back, he gave me his number and suggested I come down to the beach for a surf or a boat ride.

Amidst the commercialism and hunger for money, the Balinese have an innate honesty I have not recently found in Australian society.
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Seminyak, Indonesia

The wet season in Bali continues from about November to April and is called the low season. I've experienced several major storms where the roof feels like it is going to cave in and the rain is deafeningly loud. The next morning, I had to walk to breakfast in water up to my ankles. The shoes got some good soaking and had to dry out for the rest of the day. Today the rain has come again so it has forced me to work on my book for a few hours. The fact that the owner was going to charge me a minimum of US$60 per week to use the Internet (everywhere else it's free) has also caused me to budget my time at cafes with the computer and work at home specifically on the book. The rain normally comes heavily in the morning and often clears up by the afternoon. At 9.30 every morning Kadek comes to do the cleaning, change the beds and towels, and takes any laundry. At a cost of about $1.50, I can get around 10-15 pieces cleaned and ironed. Pul is the man who cleans the pool about every three days. Yesterday I found a rather large crab living in a quiet corner on the pool step. I hope he likes his new home in the garden. Other than that, the pool is immaculate.

When no friends are visiting, I'll spend the first few hours of the day working and by about 12, I am ready for a light lunch. As no one has dinner until about 9.30 pm and I don't enjoy eating alone in an empty restaurant, I have found myself in the habit of having brunch or a late lunch so I can last till dinner. I might spend a couple of hours having lunch, getting a massage, or coming back to the villa to read and sit in the sun as it has normally fined up by then.

I like to work in the morning so nothing distracts me and I have done my three or four hours before I'm tempted outdoors.

Then I might have to battle technology for a while...
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