Journey to the northwest. Pemuteran
We did not make it the temple that perched on the cliff at Uluwatu, famous for its “naughty” monkeys (watch out for your sandals and sunglasses tourists!), just a little bit more south. But we went to another iconic temple by the sea, this one sitting on a rock that can only be reached by wading through the water at low tide. PuraTanah Lot has no monkeys, but rows upon rows of souvenir stalls and a great many tourist to match it. It was still an enchanting sight. And the waves, oh the waves looked so grand. Standing on the cliff looking down, it’s an endless cycle of long, smooth waves pushing toward shore, the blue green water forming a perfect pinnacle, picking up a brave surfer, giving him a long, glorious ride (I could almost wish I could surf). By the temple, the waves crash onto the rocks, breaking into a million brilliant pieces. I could stand there watch this scene for hours.
On our journey to the north west, we passed countless villages, rice paddies, temples, temples, temples. Wait, is every building on this island a temple? Turned out I wasn’t hallucinating, there are temple everywhere:
Every family, every compound, every clan or society has a temple; you mention a society or organization and has a temple. In the compound where the family lives there is the family temple. The desa, village itself must have at least three temples; The clan has its own temple. Subak or irrigation organization has a temple… Bali as a whole has a temple, the pura Besakih or the mother temple…
There are the temples, solid, ubiquitous reminders of the Balinese religion. Then there are the small offerings, pockets weaved with palm leaves, with fresh flowers and incense, a bit of rice and other foods (like candies or a snack bar), ritually placed for the gods every morning. They are everywhere, in front of every home and shop. And the Balinese people, with flecks of rice on their forehead, and frangipani petals tucked behind their ears, having just had a blessing. If I were a God, I would surely be pleased with such devotion. In the world’s largest Muslim country, how did Bali retain such a strong Hindu identity? What kind of religion is this? According to Wikipedia:
Balinese Hinduism has roots in Indian Hinduism and in Buddhism, and adopted the animistic traditions of the indigenous people. This influence strengthened the belief that the gods and goddesses are present in all things. Every element of nature, therefore, possesses its own power, which reflects the power of the gods. A rock, tree, dagger, or woven cloth is a potential home for spirits whose energy can be directed for good or evil. Balinese Hinduism is deeply interwoven with art and ritual. Ritualizing states of self-control are a notable feature of religious expression among the people, who for this reason have become famous for their graceful and decorous behavior.
Strangely, despite the thousands of temples, and daily offerings and rituals devoted to their Hindu Gods, the island and its people does not give out any vibes of religious zeal. The temples and homes just seem to blend, and the rituals, so colorful and picturesque in their presentation, seem more an artistic expression than a solemn faith. Of course I was only looking at the surface. But I was impressed by this unique brand of Hinduism. It did remind me of Jeju, the other island of this trip, where ritual is also important, if not so pretty. Interestingly there seems no question that the Balinese rituals will continue to thrive, as they had actually been strengthened by tourism.
We stopped near Bedugul, at a high point on the road, looking out onto a panorama of rice paddies. My vocabulary is woefully inadequate for this so I’ll just use my backup word to describe it: stunning. We had a far less than stunning lunch buffet at a tourist restaurant strategically positioned at this spot, and I was too busy feeling in awe of the scenery to savor the disappointment in the food. We pressed on after lunch passing Bedugul, with its curious star produce – strawberries! I’d never have guessed this fruit would be featured in a place in the tropics, but there it was, up in the hills of Bali, a strawberry land, complete with “Pick your own berries” signs, and hoards of women peddling baskets of it on the roadside. Later, when we passed the ridge above Lake Bratan, we came across more curious crops along the road, miles of citrus orchards with hydrangea (used for offerings I was told) planted as a companion produce under the fruit trees. Is this California, or… Ontario? I felt a sense of geographical displacement.
After hours of driving, we eventually arrived in Pemuteran, on the northwestern corner of the island. There is only a small channel between Bali and the next island, Java. This is a drier part of Bali and the landscape is more barren. The scenery has more of an wilderness to it. There are more Muslims in this region because of the proximity to Java, it’s also much less visited by tourists because of its remoteness. However I wanted to come here because it’s supposed to have some of the best diving in all Bali. We checked into our splurge hotel of the trip: an oceanview villa, with a lovely view, semi-private pool, outdoor daybed and all. We fell in love instantly and right away regretted that we would stay here only 2 nights. It seemed the perfect place to relax, not to mention pursue our favorite activities, snorkeling and diving.
The water right off the beach in front had beautifully colored coral and numerous fish. Pemuteran is also a pioneer in environmental conservation with their “Reef gardeners” program, where locals with the help of an Australian expat and his “Reefseen” dive shop, has revitalized their damaged local reefs by submerging metal frames and wrecks in the bay, then hooked them up to a low-voltage energy source on the shore. Limestone — a building block of reefs — naturally gathers on the metal. Workers then salvage coral that has broken from damaged reefs and “planted” them on the structure. The result is the delightful coral garden we saw. The dive shop also has a turtle hatchery program. We saw a tiny turtle getting released to sea, taking hesitant steps toward the waves and swam away.
Unfortunately, the stress of a week in the hot climate (since Jeju), air travelling and whatever it was that we ate since coming to Bali was catching up to us. We both had “Bali Belly”, and I got a sore throat on top of that. It became apparent that diving was not a good idea. We still snorkeled and enjoyed the villa and its grounds. It was not a bad place to get sick, if one must get sick. I fell asleep at 8pm one night. We never made it to the famed national park and its wall diving… well, if there is a next time.
To Ubud
After two days on the beach, we proceeded to Central Bali, the Ubud region, of spas, nature, arts and crafts, culture, and “Eat, pray, love” fame. It was a long drive, passing villages and their temples, rice paddies, orchards and vegetable gardens (long beans is a staple veggie here). The most curious sight that flashed by: fluffy white little rabbits for sale on the roadside. On our way we had a soak at Air Panas at Banjar, where hot spring water gushes out of mouths of stone carved naga (dragon like creatures). Then we took a tour at a small plantation featuring coffee, cacao, vanilla, and other tropical produces. We tasted a fresh cacao fruit – kind of citrusy, not really like chocolate at all. They have vanilla vines growing (climbing) as a companion with the cacao trees – clever use of space. We saw lemon grass, nutmeg, galangal, ginger … all growing on the hillside, in a natural fashion (not neat like in an orchard or farm). And then there’s the star attraction, Kopi (coffee), and specifically, Kopi Luwak.
I only heard the name “Kopi Luwak” a few years ago, this most curious and super expensive coffee “processed” by an animal’s (the Asian palm civet, also called “toddy cat”, or “luwak”) digestive system, from Indonesia. When they started serving them at Bean Street Coffee in San Mateo we even shelled out 10 bucks to try a glass of it (before they raised the price to $40!). Well, the day had come for us to meet the “luwak”, thecivet that the coffee was named after. I had always imagined an elusive creature in the forest, something like a bobcat, seldom seen by humans, except for its excrements found by chance to make a small fortune for whoever that finds it. To our surprise, we met the luwak in a cage on the plantation, looking rather sedated. It was the same size as a house cat (we were told this one was a youngster). We also met its poop, nuggets of freshly produced “Kopi luwak” (looking a bit like walnuts). Luwak, do you know how much they’re selling your poop for? Hundreds of dollars a pound! Of all manners of animal exploitation, this one has got to be the strangest.
In early 18th century The Dutch established the cash-crop plantations in their colony in Dutch East Indies islands of Java and Sumatra, including Arabica coffee introduced from Yemen. During the era of Cultuurstelsel (1830—1870), the Dutch prohibited the native farmers and plantation workers to pick coffee fruits for their own use. Yet the native farmers wanted to have a taste of the famed coffee beverage. Soon the natives learned that certain species of musang or luwak (Asian Palm Civet) consumed these coffee fruits, yet they left the coffee seeds undigested in their droppings. The natives collect these Luwak’s dropping coffee seeds; clean, roast and grind it to make coffee beverage. The fame of aromatic civet coffee spread from locals to Dutch plantation owners and soon become their favorites, yet because of its rarity and unusual process, the civet coffee was expensive even in colonial times.