Balinese haze
Yesterday’s lazy morning writing, gave way to a traditional Balinese massage. I found myself naked, face down the hole, looking at a clay pot. Is this a spittoon of sort for when you are so lost in ecstasy you drool? (it’s happened before, no lie) No, indeed, but a cauldron for hot water doused with essential oils for steaming my face. Ooh, so wonderful. Using mostly fists, elbows and forearms, she kneaded every inch, sometimes standing on the bed over me to get leverage. I simply took stock of my surroundings, what I sensed and what I could hear — open air building (as they mostly are here), raindrops pattering the big banana leaves, thunder rolling in the sky, roosters cawing, workers hammering and sawing bamboo, her slippery kneading and my muscles groaning. This ended with some ginger tea, and a chat with a woman from Finland who was sweating so, as Finland is in winter now and she swims every morning in the lake outside her home. Whoa!! Either way, she’s got her lymph a moving.
I strolled down Jl. Raya Ubud, met Richard for dinner at a warung serving Thai food on a quiet side street near Ubud palace. We had a savory meal then purchased a ticket from a street vendor to the Legong dance being held that evening at the palace. This comprised of traditional music and 6 different stories told through dance. Ornate costumes, make-up, headdress — the women and men dance with their fingers, their eyes, their toes, legs, back, shoulders, arms…each body part seemed to respond to each different musical instrument. Mesmerizing display. My favorite; the warrior dance.
I began my trek home (a 30 min walk from downtown Ubud to Penestanan) attempting to grab a ‘taxi’ but am firm with what I am willing to pay and feeling safe enough to walk home in the dark, no taxi driver is willing to unfurl from his perch to drive me up to home for the meager amount I’m willing to dole out. For it’s not the dark which seems scary, rather the narrow streets which house the vehicle, moto-scooter and pedestrian traffic. As well as where the dogs roam, the chickens/roosters and the occasional waddling family of ducks make way. I’ve come to realize that I’m not being honked at for walking on the street, but rather ‘honk honk’ = move aside dog so you don’t get hit or hello! I’m driving here.
After a fitful rest, an early rise to meet Rose & Teighlor (sp?) for the Campuhan ridge walk. One hour later we were in the village of Campuhan, for some breakfast at Karsa Kafe. We occupied a hut, with a view of rice fields and ponds full of koi and lotus flowers. So serene. We drank watermelon juice, an avocado lassie & some coconut water with our banana bread and bubur (sweet black rice pudding of sorts). We sorted out some relationship questions and then onward trekked into the village where we met Palma, a photographer from Hungary, who was walking the street roaming for whatever her eye might behold. Several hours of creative wandering and talking later, we said our goodbyes.
Early evening Uni (Dedik’s sister) picked me up on her scooter, to scoot me to Dedik’s family house where I met up with Richard doing Tai Chi in the family temple. Richard obviously making himself at home :) We were blessed to be invited to Dedik’s family home prior to the temple ceremony, to meet his wife, children and extended family whom reside here. Dedik is a good man — working as a driver at a local hotel, running this guesthouse I reside at, director of music at his temple, father, husband, provider and with his father passed on, now the patriarch of his family unit. Dedik says his days are very full (indeed), not a moment to waste. And when he receives a bit of down time for himself, his hobby is to go hunting. His preference? An animal that resembles a porcupine, because the meat is ‘so good.’
Dedik had yesterday off from work so he could spend the day at the temple making preparations for last night’s ceremony of thanks. To celebrate the temple birthday, is my understanding. Both Richard and I were clothed in sarongs and sashes, Richard in a beautiful headband as well and we strolled with Dedik’s family to the temple. What a beautiful display. Every stone it seemed bedazzled with finery in celebration.
From what I observed, each family brings an offering to the temple in a beautiful container which looked to be made of bamboo. Some square, some round. Some stacked high, some flat. Some were covered, some not. I could see fruit offerings, and fabric. Lots of beautiful bamboo ornamentation. It seemed that the women were charged with carrying the offering to the temple, placing it within the temple. As well, there is a tray of sorts the women carry which contain incense, flower petals and sacred water for saying prayers and making offerings.
Before the ceremony began we were able to sit with the women who had gathered near the offerings, to pray, to meditate, to silently contemplate. At 7pm, 15–20 women placed specific ornate offerings upon their heads and processioned to the other portion of the temple, forming a half moon facing the middle of the temple. It is here that animals were sacrificed by a priest. I placed my fingers in my ear and looked away, not wanting to know those sounds or sites.
That ritual complete, young girls and young boys danced the Legong dances that we had seen the previous night. This was followed by several men performing variations of the ‘warrior’ dance, with and without masks. Which in my observation turned into a bit of a comedy routine who had us all in stitches. Not knowing what he was saying, I simply laughed watching the Penestanan community laughing and smiling so brightly. What cheer. What cheer to see babies, tots sitting in the crooks of their dad’s bodies, children crowding around the dancing warriors, women snuggled together tightly, all together, community. Such warmth emanating.
It is this I long for in my life.
And so today I sit. I write a bit, I snooze. Gathering strength, for tomorrow I head north, to Lovina Beach, to find my new home for a while. I will miss this bit of carving out. Yet I know there are people waiting for me. Whom? I’ve no idea, but soon I will tell you stories about them.
