Nyepi

Soon after we arrived here almost a year ago, we began to notice large, colorful, and scary figures off to the side of the roads. They were well made, and stood on small bases, often with one leg raised and arms outstretched and faces contorted in anger, as if attacking something. Sometimes they had 3 heads, or 6 arms, or snakes growing out of their chest. And sometimes their anatomicals were included -and greatly exaggerated. It took a while to understand that they were holdovers from an annual event held every March, called Nyepi. It’s a Hindu celebration, virtually exclusive to the island of Bali, and commemorates the new year of the Balinese calendar. The exact day in March can vary wildly from year to year, characteristic of the highly complex Balinese saka calendar. This year Nyepi fell on March 31st.

Starting in January, we began to see those large characters being build throughout the villages, always by groups of young men. We were impressed by their accurate representations, often started with simple wood pieces, wrapped with reeds in such a manner as to properly describe the muscles and bones, before being covered with paper-mache, or foam. These statues are called Ogoh-Ogoh, and usually represent specific forms of mythological demons inspired by Hindu philosophy. Their main purpose is to purify the natural environment of man-made spiritual pollutants. Surprisingly, they are a fairly recent addition to the Nyepi tradition, dating to the early 1980’s. Back then, they were carefully monitored for any criticism of the Suharto regime.

During our March road trip around Bali, we noticed how the entire island was getting dressed up for Nyepi. Tall bamboo poles lined the streets, arching over the roads, dangling delicate reed ornaments overhead. There was a buzz in the air, and an escalation of firework-like explosions, shot out of bamboo tubes carried by young men. We returned from our trip just 2 days before the first Nyepi related ceremony began, called the Melasi Ritual. This involves ceremonies that take place at temples near the coast, and end with a march to the sea to acquire sacred water. We missed this ritual, but were told that it was quite moving and is not to be missed next year.

The next event was the parade and subsequent burning of (most of) the Ogoh-Ogoh’s. Jennifer and I enjoyed riding around to the different villages in and around Ubud during the last days to look at them. By now, each character was affixed upon a wide matrix of bamboo poles so that the group of boys who built each one could pick it up, spin it around, and take it away as needed. When we found 1 Ogoh-Ogoh, we usually found several more, brought together for all to admire. Their creators sat proudly nearby, eagerly waiting for the festivities to begin. Parents and small children rode up on motorbikes to admire and take photos, and then headed off in search of the next cluster.

Finally, the day came. Every village hosted a celebration. We were torn between wanting to stay in our own, smaller village of Penestanan, versus watching the larger event in the heart of Ubud. We chose the later, and by late afternoon entered onto the corner soccer field on Monkey Forest road. Many diverse statues were on display, and many more were still coming in, carried by 25-100 exuberant young men -depending on the size of their creation. As dusk settled in, they were systematically carried away, to the main Ubud intersection, in front of the Ubud Palace. Men and women marched alongside, carrying lit torches. Traditional musical bands of excited young men joined the stream too, adding that magical and integral element to Balinese ceremony.

In an effort to escape the growing crowd, we ended up instead trapped inside a cul-de-sac of packed onlookers. Turns out it was the perfect space to watch the dazzling costumed dancers and large shadow-puppet shows that we didn’t know would happen. We did feel fortunate to watch it, but it was a tight squeeze, and a little hairy at times. The individual floats arrived one at a time, and were frantically spun around 3 times in a circle as a means to shake and confuse the demons. The packed, encroaching crowd needed to react fast and sway accordingly, and at some point, it felt unsafe and not as fun. But we’d seen the bulk of it all by then, and wondered how it was going back in our own village. We eventually found a circuitous path through and away from the sardine crowd and back to our motorbike, and headed the long way around, through the actual monkey forest -which is a little spooky at night. But then we were blocked from getting home by all the other village ceremonies. Each attempt to outsmart the gridlock led to more impenetrable festivals. This was both frustrating and fun, and presented some interesting glimpses of these villages, and a long, sweet encounter with an older Balinese woman who treated us like her long-lost children. Eventually Jen remembered a tricky, narrow, dark, gravel shortcut back through the haunted monkey forest that did the trick and got us home. But by then, the festivities in our village and most elsewhere were over, so we went home and prepared for the most important part of Nyepi.

The ‘Day of Silence” starts with the following sunrise (6:00) and ends 24 hours later. It is declared as a day without noise, work, play, fire, electricity, or travelling. The airport is shut down, all businesses are closed, and everyone other than the police are instructed to stay indoors. All the streets are empty, all across the island. The idea is to fool the evil spirits into thinking that the island is uninhabited, so as to leave it alone, and the Balinese take this effort very seriously. It is a period reserved for introspection and meditation, and many people fast -though we did not. The stars were especially bright due to the lack of light everywhere. And even the dogs, frogs and insects -which usually sound like an orchestra every night- seemed aware and respectful of the occasion and remained quiet. Really.

We enjoyed this 24-hour house arrest. It was the quietest day of my life. I couldn’t help but note the contrast between it and the March 31st of last year, which was perhaps the busiest day of my life, and the end to the busiest month I’ve ever known. We needed to be out of our SF house by that day’s end, with all details and loose ends addressed. That was our last night in Bernal Heights.

The day after the Day of Silence is New Year’s day, and most places remain closed. Traditionally, the Balinese use this day to seek and offer forgiveness with one another. It’s now 1936 in the Balinese calendar. Selamat baik ulang tahun!

-matt

 

4 Rounded Corners

The month of March brought a break to our Indonesian language classes, and offered some free time until family and friends were to arrive in early April. We were feeling the itch to go somewhere. Vietnam, Laos, and Sri Lanka were tops on our list, but each of those visits begs for more time than we had. Then we watched an amazing 5 part documentary made in the 1970’s called Ring Of Fire. It chronicles a pair of brothers’ decade worth of adventures through the far reaches of Indonesia. We highly recommend watching it. The result was a new found desire to explore Indonesia just as much as those other neighboring countries. And then it occurred to us to start with our own island first, because with the exception of 2 visits to the small fishing village of Padang Bai, we hadn’t been anywhere else in Bali during our 11 months here. And so it was settled: we loosely planned a clockwise journey around Bali, so as to be nearest the coast while driving on the left side of the road. And we’d mostly make things up as we went along.

Within our first hour, while passing through an especially busy village, our back tire went flat. The Gods were watching however, because this trouble occurred across the street from a repair shop. A new tire was in order, and an opportunity to speak Bahasa Indonesia to strangers. An hour later we were on the road again, feeling good. We headed due west until colliding with the Indian Ocean that slants northwest. We body-surfed and walked along the nearly deserted-yet-beautiful Balian shoreline and rented a raised thatched hut in which to call home for the night-and enjoyed a midnight downpour. We found dinner at a traditional parking lot-turned-evening food market, at which we drew many smiles and curious stares.

The next day we left the ocean and took what was probably our favorite drive of the trip (of many): a northern route that connects the southern coast to the northern one, via the central mountains. The road was well paved, with varied scenes of beauty and interesting small villages, usually centered around enormous, decorated Banyan trees. We stopped to watch rock carvers, and to visit a lovely waterfall that required a thick jungle hike through dense coffee, banana, and mango trees. But our hopes of exploring the mountainous 3 lakes area were dashed by heavy rains, so we moved on after 2 nights. But it struck us as a fantastic region to come back to during dry season. Our brief visit included seeing monkeys, bats, mist-covered lakes, hot springs, and a ceremony of hundreds of men and boys, walking through the streets of a small village.

From there we descended to the north coast, which we’d hug for most of the rest of the trip. Heading west at first, we could tell by the increasing number of mosques and Muslim dress that we were nearing the ferries to Java. We went as far as Pemuteran, in the Northwest corner of the island, where we spent 2 days snorkeling, before turning around and heading East. In a small harbor, Jennifer was pleased to find 2 distinctive Bugis boats from the island of Sulawesi (and where the phrase Boogie Man comes from). We snorkeled in several places, and most of them were typically otherworldly, stunningly beautiful experiences. (I’ll just say, that good snorkeling is such an easy way to have a profoundly beautiful experience). Along this stretch we also met several people whom we hope to meet again, especially Ibu Putu, who sells fruit, and her husband Gede who sells his hand-made jewelry in the relaxed fishing village of Lovina -where we liked swimming in the warm ocean waters at sunset.

We saw several memorable temples. Pura Dalem in Jagaraga was almost as interesting as our delightful, wrinkled, toothless, informative and excitable guide Ketut. And ancient Pura Maduwe Kewang intrigued us with it’s century-old homage to the first bicycle brought to the island (by the Dutch). And not to be outdone, we stumbled upon the Art Zoo, a sprawling, out-of-place studio-residence-garden of homo-erotic pop art overlooking the sea. Feeling like trespassers -and voyeurs-there wasn’t a soul in sight while we explored the fascinating grounds and artsy compound all alone. It’s owned by an American artist named Symon, who also runs a notable but less-spectacular sister studio back in our home neighborhood of Penestanan.

Mountainous inland roads offered Jennifer a chance to practice her motorbike skills, and gave me the welcomed opportunity to sit back and enjoy the beauty. We happened upon a small motorbike repair shop up there once, and had our 2 burned out headlights replaced. The group of young men were surprised and happy to see, oblige, and talk to us, and we all took photos of one another.

Most of our rooms were cheap and nice, and close to the water, and we only had trouble finding a room on one occasion. That was quite a search, almost worthy of its own blog post, and a bit nerve-racking into the night. But in the end, it landed us on a scenic spot right on the warm water, and the search included a sight that was among our favorite of the entire trip: the lights of a dozen small, late night-fishing boats clustered across a small, calm bay. In the morning, we enjoyed a warm dip in the sea before heading off.

Onward and Southeastward we curved, eventually down to Amed, which was busier than expected -hardly boring and barren as described by many. It was an easy place to relax, with rooms up in the hills, overlooking the sea. The snorkeling was best there, and one of our favorite spots was around a Japanese ship, sunk during WWII. Hovering over it was fascinating and eerie, but the fish and coral were spectacular. We also enjoyed some live music and dancing in Amed, and a shell museum. After 4 nights, we needed to go, but hated to leave the coast. It reaffirmed my sense that although Ubud has the most to offer us, I miss being close(r) to the ocean.

Our last 2 nights were spent in Tirtanangga, a short and beautiful drive inland from Amed, situated between the gorgeous coastal peaks and Bali’s mother volcano. Our favorite temple was there, situated high up in the mountains. Pura Lempuyang had a powerful presence and sense of profound worship. There are 7 temples there in total, 1700 steep steps apart, through a wild monkeyed forest. The rain kept us from seeing all but the first temple, but we shall return. On our final full day, we were lead on a long, hot, varied hike by elder Bapak Ketut, who could out walk us both. Afterwards, Jennifer and I made happy fools of ourselves by inner-tubing in the impressive, beautiful water palace pool just across the street from our room. The next morning, before we drove off, Bapak Ketut sold Jennifer one of his hand-made flutes, and gave her a lesson, and also gave us both a lesson in Bali sanskrit.

On the beautiful, winding ride home, we continued to see decorated streets and over-sized, monstrous, Ogoh-Ogoh’s being built within each village in preparation for Bali’s annual Nyepi event a week later. Sidemen village, in the heart of famously beautiful Sidemen road, was especially electric and all dressed up. It was an easy 3 hour ride home, and the end to an excellent adventure -one of our favorites. It greatly helped us understand our host island better, and to note several places worth returning to again -especially knowing that the motorbike is a viable way to get around the island. In the end, we drove 900 kilometers, or about 560 miles.

-matt