a few days later i came by and she told me that she had looked up the schedule on the computer and printed it out and that there is a performance at 11 a.m. that we can see, and that we should come home before dark. fine. the trip is over 3 hours each way so we planned to leave at 6 a.m. and return by 6 p.m. that night i started having horrible imaginary scenarios of being in the hot city, tons of balinese coming to the festival, crowded, overwhelmed, expensive tickets, no parking, lots of money for food and drinks for all of us for an entire day, and i began to regret that i had even suggested it! i went back over to them and emphasized that it is a very very long car ride and are they sure they want to go? a unanimous YES! okay, decided that what will be will be and it will be an experience in any case.
when i told my friends about the plan, they asked if the family has ever been in a car before. i said no. and they raised their eyebrows and said "take lots of plastic bags" (the solution for car sickness) and they told me how they once took the staff to the city one hour from here and the whole way they were all vomiting...so i should be prepared...again i went to their house and told them that this could happen, and they laughed and said they know, and they will bring bags and that they want to go. okay. what will be will be. decided that $100 was my limit for this spree, remembering how a wealthy cousin of mine had once invited me over to his place abroad and paid for the plane ticket plus all the extras, and how special that was being treated by someone that had the means to do it. and now here i was, in that same position, the rich american that is willing to use $100 in order to take the poor balinese family that has never driven in a car before and 3 of them have never been to the big capital city of bali before, and as the saying goes, "if you go on a spree, go the whole hog, including the postage".
they walked down their dirt path to the road, dressed up for the event, and we left at 6 as planned. i told gede that the family had never been in a car before or to the city, so he can stop along the way at places or take scenic routes, as he pleases. mithas father chose to sit up front next to gede, her mother and 5 year old behind them, and mitha and i and her 1o year old sister in the back. i laughed as i showed the mother some plastic bags and toilet paper that i had brought "just in case", and off we drove onto the winding narrow road up the mountainside.at first gita, the 10 year old, was busy sharing thoughts with mitha about the trip, but soon enough both she and her mother and younger sister were not happy campers! and since the mother couldn't be taking care of the 2 car sick kids, while she herself was leaning over the plastic bag, the father just took the youngest one and sat her on his lap up front, no seat belts, no problems...anything goes here in bali. and so we continued.
i kept avidly pointing out the rising sun, the sea down below as we took a turn, the beautiful mountains, the fog, the lake, the horizon. but it seemed that i was the only one excited. i slowly began to realize that what is special to me or excites me, is not what excites them. as we continued to climb up higher and higher mountains, the air became cold, people were wearing wool hats and winter coats and walking around with towels on their heads or shoulders. i realized later that it was an inexpensive way of keeping warm with a household item ( a towel) or else they were coming or going to the local spring to wash themselves in the morning. gede said we will be seeing the famous volcano today also. a while later he apologized for the fog, i told him that i like fog, it reminds me of the chinese paintings that i love. only later when he stopped the car after asking if i would like to see the lake, did i understand why he had apologized. we had reached the famous batur volcano and lake. a whole village geared for tour buses that come from around the world to see these sights. 10's of large restaurants hanging over the cliff that was meant to be a tourist attraction, were now covered in fog, and nothing to see. i laughed and enjoyed the bit of sun that was poking through the fog and shimmering on the lake, i laughed how nice it is to be without any expectations...i didn't even know there was a volcano and that that is where we were...so not seeing it because of the fog was fine with me. each of the stops was actually a saving grace for the mother and kids that were still vomiting the entire trip.
an hour later gede suggested we stop at the holy water temple and i readily agreed. once we arrived there i realized i had been there a few months prior with the hoolahoop workshop and had experienced a very special purifying ritual in the pools with the holy spring water. today we took a few "souvenir photos" next to the big holy tree, the narrow painted balinese carved wooden doors, and then passed by the big pond with the goldfish. it awakened memories in me of my childhood and feeding the fish and ducks at the pond in the park and how i loved it, so i excitedly suggested we feed them, and fished (oh no...) around my bag looking for the packed sandwiches in order to contribute a slice of bread for the occasion. but i must have left it in the car, and gede pointed to a little pink colored cupcake, leftovers from yesterdays ceremonial offerings that i thought i would give the kids, and said that the fish would eat that. i quickly (since i always do everything quickly) started picking off little pieces from it and threw it to the fish to show them what i meant about "feeding the fish so they will all come over to us",.. as i stretched the cupcake out to them too to pick off crumbs for the fish, i realized that this was a special treat for humans, not for fish! and that it was almost sacriligeous to be feeding it to the fish! kind of like for us to take a great piece of steak and give it to a man who hasn't had meat in 10 years and suggest he feed the dog with it. when i realized what i was doing i asked if maybe they prefer to eat it rather than give it to the fish....but they were way to humble to say yes, and obligin
gly fed the fish and again i seemed a bit more excited than they were.next we moved on to the actual pools with the spigots of holy water pouring from them where pilgrims come with offerings and wait in lines for hours to dunk and pray and swallow and pour this water on them, even bringing it back to family members that were unable to make the trip, so that they too can open up the Gerry cans and pour this sacred water on ailing parts or purify their altars and homes, etc. and here we were, at 7:30, not a soul in sight, and suddenly all of the sacredness of it is absent....without the crowds there making it a priority, it was just a pool with water spouting out. i decided quickly (again) that this was not a chance to be missed, and that i surely will make good use of the opportunity and asked gede if i could just take off my blouse and put my skirt up around my body and dunk like that and later i will just be with my long blouse as a dress so as not to wet his car. he agreed, and there i strip teased as inconspicuously as i could, opposite the 6 of them, who were all quite shocked by my actions. i decided not to react. if they do not want to take this special opportunity, it doesn't mean that i am not going to either. gede encouraged me, saying we have plenty of time, so off i jumped into the waist high pool and began my dipping and praying and hitting and covering and swallowing ritual that i partly remembered from the last time as i imitated the balinese, making up my own prayers. as i reached the third of the 15 spouts i heard shouting, which is very rare. until now i have only heard it when there is a man on the beach that wants to have some privacy to do his personal needs and i am casually walking by, so he will shout, to me in order for me to go in another direction. i looked up to see who was shouting, and sure enough, it was directed at me, and the man was angrily pointing to my see through white skirt that was floating above my black underpants and me braless, and he ran to bring me a sarong and sash. okay...if you say so. and i put it on top of my skirt and tied it and all was well and i could continue. (only later in the day did i suddenly remember that this is a temple and one is supposed to be wearing temple dress; sarong and sash, even if you go in the water, as i had done the last time i was there, with the temple clothes on...had totally forgotten that basic rule!) the days before i had been experiencing existential angst...and that was the real purifying i felt i needed...to be relieved of the confusion and doubt that fill my mind, and to be the best vessel for gods will using all of my senses to see god and hear god and smell god and speak god and taste god and think god in all and everything. amen. when i finished i came out to change into my blouse, and found the family quietly sitting on the side waiting for me. i hoped i hadn't embarrassed them too much or ruined our relationship or the day for that matter. as we walked back to the car mitha shyly asked me what i feel after having done that. i thought for a moment and realized that i feel brand new! i am seeing the world through brand new eyes. all is bright and clear and simple and NOW. wow! if she hadn't asked me that question i don't know if i would have even noticed the difference. thank you mitha. i told her so, and she didn't comment. i laughingly told her how when i went kayaking with my granddaughter and forgot to bring a bathing suit and was soaking wet, i just hung my skirt out the car window and by the time we got to the restaurant it was dry and i could wear it, so i think i will do the same now. and i opened up the window and hung it outside to dry as we still had 2-3 more hours in the car, and i would feel more comfortable with my skirt on too, and not just a long tunic! again...embarrassment for gede who has pride in his shiny van, and the family....but, this is not mine, so i will not restrict my needs .
mithas father was happily chatting with gede the whole trip and i was happy for the two of them. no one commented on the retching noises and every now and then when he would stop the car, another plastic bag with its contents would be thrown along the roadside. now i understood what the plastic bags were all about among these magnificent forest covered mountains. we passed through many small villa
ges, each having their own style of architecture. one of the stops was in order to view lovely narrow terraced rice fields placed on steep winding mountains, glistening in the morning sun. at one point we passed an area where there were lovely wooden hand carved statues of buddha, and other lovely shapes. next to each open fronted store front there were piles of cut tree trunks, and a man or two with hatchets and knives, chiseling out these repetitive shapes. at first it was so beautiful and special and incomprehensible how they just do this sitting on the ground all day. but as it became shop after shop and street after street, and the buddhas became cats, and geckos, and giraffes etc, i lost all interest and felt i was in a tourist trap. here were these amazingly talented people, mass producing objects for export for souvenir shops...if i would have seen one, it would have been great, but seeing thousands made it all feel cheap and meaningless.we finally arrived at the festival grounds after crawling through city traffic, the antithesis to our beautiful breath taking drive through the villages and mountains covered with bamboo, palm trees, banana plantations, coconut groves, orange orchards and many more. the plan was to see a special dance performance in another half hour. they all slowly got their senses back after the nausea and driving and in we went to find our dance stage....i thought. but instead i realized that no one was really intent upon seeing any dancing. the experience was more one of just "being in the city". i kept pulling out the program with time and place and asking them if we are in the right place, and they just kind of continued looking in the direction of the stalls that were selling clothes cheaply. so, we went to see the stalls. when mitha spotted the ferris wheel in the background, her eyes lit up! i was so happy to see her eyes light up that i asked if she wants to go on it. she looked at her parents, who immediately said "no". i couldn't understand?! no?! why? i happily volunteered to go on it with her, since the others all said they were too afraid, and mitha awaited her parents response, which was again no. i asked why, and she said they think it is dangerous. oh. i told her that her parents are her parents and nothing to do but obey. she did not show any signs of disappointment or trying to convince, we stopped at a food stall where they had some chicken meatballs in soup for breakfast ($1 each). we continued to make circles around the fair grounds, which was actually a kind of convention area with different buildings and a big amphi, but never managed to see any dancing anywhere, and at one point, after having just learned the words for "today" and "tomorrow" in my balinese language course, i noticed them on a big bulletin and thought "aha, now we can see the program hours for today and tomorrow"! and as we stood there with several others, we realized that there were no matinee performances today, even though they had advertised there would be....there was a plus side to all of this; that there were no crowds that we had to push our way through and the stalls were empty too, and so they could linger by the underpants stall and pick out 3 for $1 without any hassle. which is what we did. eventually we passed the ferris wheel again, since we just kept making circles in the area, and this time, maybe planned by her father that wanted to give mitha a treat(?) he agreed that i go on it with her and he will take a photo. mitha excitedly went into the little swinging cage of a seat with me, and i started to understand why her father said it was dangerous....i think"ferris wheel" and know there is nothing dangerous....but i didn't think "ferris wheel in bali" and as we started and i saw the old rusty chain that was keeping the whole thing together, i just laughed to myself and prayed that gods' will be done and lets enjoy it. it was small and simple and we had a few rounds and he let us out and we continued on our way. her little sisters eyes lit up when she saw a man with helium balloons...first time?! but we just walked on. my heart broke for her. i remembered what it is like to want a helium balloon, but, didn't want to interfere with her parents walking by. the father wanted to buy a cap, so we went to that stand, where as i quickly(!) started to follow them to the stand i remembered that when they looked at it earlier they commented that it is important to bargain but when the seller saw me, they put the price up for them so they didn't buy the cap. . so i stopped in mid track and said "uh, should i wait on the side this time?" and they smiled yes. and let the mother go by herself to bargain them down without a tourist next to her. this is typically balinese; they wouldn't think of asking me to wait on the side or to tell me not to go along with the mother. they NEVER interfere with what other people are doing or intending. it is amazing. no trying to control or give advice to anyone else. she came back with a cap for him and he happily put it on his head, (a 40 year old boy at the fair!)
eventually it became clear that we had pretty much seen what there was to see, and now what. when i heard her mother, who until now had been pale and nauseous, happily talking on the cell phone, i asked mitha who she was speaking with? "her sister that lives in denpassar" oh...i told mitha that if she wants to visit her, we can go there. mitha again was excited and told her father who told her mother, who happily called her sister back to make plans to meet now. excitement filled the air as the mother again requested we go back to the stalls for a fourth time, in order to bring them something (which turned out to be some popcorn and salty fried dough things also costing a big $1). as we walked to the stall i asked mitha when the last time she saw her aunt. she counted on her fingers and said "5 years ago". what?! for 5 years you haven't seen her? and you have cousins too? "yes" and have you ever been to their house? "no" . so...this is the big event of the day! it brought back memories from my childhood of the car trips to my uncles house and visiting my cousins that i loved. i was happy that i could enable this family reunion. as we walked to meet our driver, we passed a street vendor selling helium balloons and i asked if i can treat little yuitha with a he
lium balloon. the father was happy and grateful and when i asked how much to pay the man, he cringed when he told me "10,000 rupias (another $1.20)....for him, it was absurd. for me it was a once in a life time dream of a 5 year old from the village. that helium balloon was soon the main attraction of the rest of our trip, being hugged the entire time other than for a few seconds when she allowed it to touch the ceiling in her aunties house, (my suggestion! what fun is a helium balloon without letting it rise?!) while we waited for gede to show up at our meeting place with the van we witnessed a cremation parade along the main road, which consisted of a single row of some 20 women with tall offerings on their heads, followed by 10 rows 5 wide across of men in sarongs and headbands,followed by a float like 3 tiered colorful material draped casket with a photo of a young woman on it, followed by the marching gamelon orchestra which had men carrying long bamboo poles on their shoulders which the 22 gamelon chimes were hanging from, each with a musician hitting out the melody with the metal hammer as they walked along, followed by another some 100 women, ending the entourage followed by all of the cars that were crawling along the road behind the procession until it arrives eventually to the cremation grounds. all part of the comings and goings of life here in bali.the joyful excitement of visiting her sister was soon dulled by the car sickness again that followed as we edged our way in the bumper to bumper traffic of the city. we finally made it down a little road the exact (luckily) width of the car with 90 degree turns every 20 metres. insane. and honking now and then so no one would come in the opposite direction! and when we got out of the car we found ourselves with rice fields on the left and a row of houses on the right. i assumed an emotional greeting of family members was to follow, but was surprised that there were no hugs, kisses, excitement, talking, touching...just a smile and continuing with the order of the day, as we kind of made ourselves at home. it was strange for me. to write about the house would be a whole other blog, but the bottom line was, we sat on the floor on the front porch, were served some tea with the salty fried goods we had brought, the bathroom was in use by the still car sick family members, gede made small talk with mithas father, the aunt didn't say a word to me, and was in the kitchen or somewhere the whole time. and a half hour later we said goodbye, again, without any hugs, hand shakes, kisses emotions. and here i had been imagining how exciting it would be for the kids to see where their auntie lives, and to play with their cousins (one arrived, too shy to look at them, another 2 slept, sick in bed) a small bag of hand me down clothes and off we went..on another 4 hour drive home equipped with more plastic bags for the way.
i had suggested to gede that we take different routes going and coming so that they could enjoy the views, but everyone was so wiped out that they just fell asleep in between car sickness bouts. i looked over at mitha, asleep next to me, barefoot, having removed the fancy purple plastic shoes she had worn for the occasion, and just looked at her innocent balinese beautiful face and bare feet and thought how she really belongs back in her little palm shack with the dirt floor, and not out here in the city. i myself was soaking in every single second, and every single sight. i loved it. hours and hours of looking out the windows at the villagers, temples decorated for celebrations, wedding adornments in the entrances to the house of the newlyweds, people carrying things on their heads; wood, food, offerings, huge piles of leaves for the animals, carrying little kids on their backs, all barefoot, or flip flops, old people , young people, always someone carrying a baby in their arms,kids flying kites everywhere, people walking, walking up and down the roads, food vendors with home made soups and rice, a line of women returning with offerings on their heads from a temple ceremony, children playing along the roadside, or people sitting there watching the passerbys, and as dusk came the men and women with the incense and small flower offering were at the altars blessing, dogs and chickens wandering about, in short; one big celebration of life. everyone was poor, everyone was outside living life.
with 30 temples in the village that i live in, and they celebrate at least 2 times a year their own private village ceremony; not a ceremony for the country, or for a 3 month old baby, or for a 6 month old that is now allowed to touch the ground or for the tooth cutting puberty rite or for a wedding or for dying or for cremating, just the bi annual temple celebration means that with 60 celebrations a year for the temple, at least every 6 days you have a celebration just in your own village!.
as our trip was nearing its end, we passed another area where the villagers had some roadside stands selling durian fruits (stinky but with custard like pockets inside it). having heard about the delicious durian from my brother who would eat them all the time in thailand and rave about them, i decided to take advantage of the opportunity and ask gede if he knows how to choose a good durian and can he stop to buy one for us. he said he knows how and stopped the car, which woke up all of our sick passengers for another pit stop, and me to watch how you buy a durian; first, you just go out of the car and ask how much iit costs." they can be extremely expensive, and then you do not buy " said gede. he returned and happily announced that a small one is only 20,000 ($2.50) great, buy it! i followed him over to the woman sitting on the ground with her machete knife and 3 piles of
durians arranged by size. she hit the hard brown thick spiked fruit and gave her sign of approval; hollow sound means good. gede took it and smelled it too; sweet smell, turned it around in his hands inspecting that there are no blemishes, and then asked her to open it so we can taste that it really is ripe. she hit it with her knife and it looked a little like a pomela inside. she handed it to me to taste, which i did after saying a short prayer, and sure enough, soft sweet custard taste....great choice. gede suggested i buy another small one so again the whole routine, and when mithas father came he picked out a larger one for them. put them in a bag in the car and hung around some more waiting for the family to feel better before continuing another 2 hours....meanwhile the smell from the open durian began to fill the car....no hotel will let you bring a durian into it because of the stink, as we waited gede suggested we take the other 2 durians back to her and have her open them too, because if they are not ripe, she will take it back and we get to choose another one. (the $5 for the 3 fruits was not a small price to pay if it was not ripe!) so mithas father went back a few metres to the vendor to have them cracked open with her machete knife. gede meanwhile was planning his strategy; from an empty vendors stand he took a few pieces of string, which is usually how the durian is brought home, since the spikes will tear a bag and it cannot be held easily, so you tie a piece of nylon around it and hang it from your motorbike or whatever. he tied up the open durians so they stink less, but when he went to tie up the big one for mithas family, it turned out that it only had a tiny slit on it. mithas father tried to convince gede that it is ripe and no need to open it. gede and he smelled it back and forth a few times, while i animatedly kept saying "go back and have her open it so you will know it is a good one! why take a chance? have her open it now. go back, taste it....!!" no response...eventually after sniffing and looking and sniffing it was placed in the bag and we drove off. i was baffled. why didn't he open it there?we happily arrived back to our little village, grateful for the trip but even more grateful to be back home! back to their little palm leaf shack, and me to my resort on the sea. i thanked gede for the wonderful tour he gave us (which included taking us on the longest bridge in indonesia over beautiful landscape) and said farewell to mitha and family, and hoped that in spite of being sick for over 8 hours (without complaining! or sympathy) that they enjoyed.
on the ride home, as we went through the magnificent forests and winding narrow mountain roads and villages and the little shacks peeking out here and there amongst it all, i kept asking myself " what is it about bali that is so special? what is it? " the only answer i came up with was that most of the people (excluding those living in the big city) are living a very simple life based on necessity, in the present, with religious ceremony as the focus of their day, smiling, family oriented with several generations living together, and in nature. life is lived for today.
and only this morning as i was journaling, did i suddenly understand why mithas father did not crack open his durian....they do not have a refrigerator. so if his was open, it would have been spoiled by this morning, when they would have been able to eat it, and i was touched by this humble, simple balinese attitude. gede did not try to convince him like i was, to go back and have her open it up so we can know for sure it is ripe. gede went along with what her father had chosen to do. no advice giving, no trying to convince or change his actions. quiet respect for each other trusting that the other has his or her reasons for doing what they are doing, and it is not my business to impose my ego on them. who am i to know better than someone else what is good for them?
if you want to see some photos:
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