Kecak
Celebration at the Monkey Forest Pura
The first night arrived, I took a taxi to a homestay I looked up in my lonely planet, the first edition so about 15 years old. Just when the driver was about to turn around or drop me off in the middle of the street, I see the sign, hop out and walk down the driveway to what looks like someone's home which is essentialy what it was. There was a large open patio connected to one of the buildings, a raised temple like platform with some remnants of a past gamelan orchestra and then the open office area where there was an middle aged couple, the Bapak sitting down on a cushion in lotus position wearing a sarong and smoking a cigarette. They invite me to sit down and have some tea and then when they realize that I could speak a bit of Indonesian begin to ask me my story. I get to the point that I'm in Denpasar to go the international hosptial for some tests to see if I have any tropical parasites. Just as I'm asking where a good place to eat is, they say "oh you havn't eaten yet, you can eat here if you want," "really?"
So without realizing , I'm soon eating real balinese food, vegetables, rice, chicken and one of their daughters comes home, I meet her, then their younger son. The next thing I know I'm getting a ride by Kadek, one of the girls that works there to the hopsital. At the hospital, which is not too busy at 9pm, the woman doctor sees me right away, says I need this and this test and then proceeds to tell me about a cremation ceremony that is happening at her village in a few days and gives me her number. Wow. And I just got here a few hours ago.
So right from the beginning, I experienced this immense kindness, sharing and hospitality.
It was high season, european tourists everywhere especially the french and of course some Italians. To get to Ubud I take a bemo, small public mini bus, get off where another bemo was to take me the rest of the way, grab a fresh juice from the convenient stand right there. What next? A guy with a motorbike asks if I need a ride. Yes, a bit questioning if that was a good idea but I didn't want to wait so the next thing I know I'm on the back, holding on with my right hand, holding the juice in my left, no helmet, thinking this probably isn't the safest thing but deciding I'm just going to trust this guy. Luckily he goes slow and takes a back country road, passing by rice paddies and then climbing up monkey forest road dropping me off in the middle. That ride ended up being the cheapest during my whole trip, at about $2.
The next few days I spent in Ubud and around, actually spending one extra day. One day I 'hired' the manager of the first bungalows I stayed at to drive me around on his motorbike to visit some temples like the Goa Gajah cave dedicated to Ganesha, Gunung kawi that was a mountain city of carved temple walls and meditation caves, to take a dip and drink from the sacred waters of Tamapk Siring and to visit the nearby mountain Gunung Batur.
Every moment was wonderful, to be surrounded by Gamelan music, incense and offerings. I found myself smiling more than not and being in complete awe of everything.
I of course pampered myself with massage and scrubs and flower baths and enjoyed the highly energetic Kecak, monkey chant and beautiful intricate Legong dance.
The Balinese believe that with any sort of artistic expression, be it music or dance or anything, it is the gods that are moving through you. I could really feel that.
One day, wandering around the side streets to get away from the crowds and traffics, I came upon a faded sign outside a residential area of houses (which all look like temples) that read Dance and Music school. I paused for a second, not sure whether to go in or not and then asked a woman standing nearby. I walk in and ask another woman that points me to the houses in the back. I then met the guru's wife and made an appointment for the next afternoon. I come back to first have a lesson on a bamboo xylophone like instrument, sitting on cushions and copying the patterns that he was playing until I got them down and he joined in with interlocking patterns. It was energizing as well as peaceful and meditative. It felt so good to be playing music as I remembered how therapeutic and soul-strengthening it is.
The next hour was a dance lesson where I again copied his movements, the sharp hand motions, widened eyes, small head jerks with the rhythm kept in the hips and feet, imagining I was a young girl giving temple offerings.
My next stop was in Amed, a stretch of coastal beach towns where I spent an afternoon snorkeling and then didn't have a place to stay, so a manager of one of the bungalows offered to give up his room for the night. I ended up having dinner with him and his friends, eating the cock that lost the cock fight that became a tasty soup and the spiciest dish that I've had so far in Indonesia. They then invited me to join them on the beach with Bintang, a guitar and drums, where I was serenaded the rest of the night, until I said 'sorry boys, I need my beauty sleep.'
The next day I caught a ride with a car that was dropping off a swedish couple in Kuta, from where I wanted to leave as soon as possible and got another ride from yet another motorbike to a surfer's beach, Padang Padang, which I wasn't quite prepared for. It was like being in an international brotown Santa Cruz. But there I enjoyed the sun, floating in the shallow waters, almost stepping on sea snakes, watching a family of macaques that suddenly appeared on the cliffside where I was seeing the sun go down.
And back to the jungle I went, rejuvenated and rested.
Padang Padang
Now I am currently in the cafe in Palangka Raya where I spend four hours everyday, connecting with the world again, getting sucked into facebook, but most importantly talking to all of you friends and family and then of course enjoying moments like this when the 'Staying Alive' music video comes on and then 'Colors of the Wind' from Pocahontas. Hahaha.
Next up: more jungle stories
