I arrange for a driver to take me into the hills to stay in a small village called Munduk. This is about an hour’s drive inland and during that time we climb from sea level to over 1000m. My driver, Kadek, has excellent English and we chat as we go along. He was brought up in the hills in a village called Tajun, but he didn’t like the cold and couldn’t sleep at night (we are talking about the temperature dropping to maybe 15 degrees at night), so when he was old enough he left the family home and went to live by the coast where it is hotter. He met his wife there and stayed and now he can sleep! We talked about tourism on Bali and he says it is very important as 75% of people work in tourism. I asked whether tourism has changed people’s outlook in any way and he said only that it brings some prosperity. He said that Balinese people are generally happy with their lot, even though most have a hard life. It is not in the Balinese culture to travel, so people don’t generally wish that they too could travel and neither do they wish they could live like western people. He said that they accept Western culture, take what they want from it and discard the rest. For example they see Western people swimming in swimming pools and watch it with mild interest, but they don’t want to do it themselves.
As we climb into the hills we drive through a village that Kadek says is the most prosperous in the whole of Bali. The houses here certainly look more substantial. The wealth comes from coffee and he says that most high ranking officials and government officers come from this village, because the prosperity means that the children have better schooling and therefore better opportunities.
We arrive in the village of Munduk, which is strung out along the road and there are distant views of the coast. I book into my accommodation. It definitely feels cooler here and there is no fan in my room; hopefully because it isn’t necessary. The shutters are open to a fantastic view of rice fields, plantations and distant hills. Perhaps I will be able to sleep better here in the cooler air.
View from my window
In the afternoon I take a walk through the village and then along a track through the forest (I learn later that this is in fact plantation) to visit a local waterfallIt is a beautiful spot with a rustic café nearby.
Track to the waterfall
Waterfall
I am the only customer in the café. On the recommendation of the café owner I order ‘Lak Lak’. This is a sweet dish of small sticky rice flour cakes, topped with syrup and grated coconut. As I eat them slowly while gazing at the waterfall, some music starts playing. First of all I assume the owner has put on a CD, but when I look round he is sitting on the floor playing a traditional bamboo xylophone. It takes me a while to place the tune and then I realise it is ‘Old Lang Syne’! Truly a surreal moment.
The next day I have arranged to go for a trek in the local area. My guide is Putu, a 29 year old local man. He has excellent English and is obviously proud of where he lives and is keen to share his knowledge of the area and Balinese culture with me. First of all we walk down the main street and he points out an old house left over from Dutch colonisation. Then we visit the village market. Putu says the stalls begin to be set up at 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning and they carry on trading until about 11 o’clock or when they have sold their produce.
Market
I have noticed that many Balinese people seem to have the same names as each other and I ask Putu to explain. He says that children are named by their position in the family. The first-born child will be called Wayan, Gede or Putu; the second-born, Made, Kadek or Nengah; the third born, Nyoman or Komang and the fourth-born, Ketut. If there are more than 4 children, they go back to the start of the list. That system would put a lot of baby name book compilers out of a job in the west; but it could save a lot of arguments and heart ache as couples would no longer need to debate whether they ought to call their precious offspring after Uncle Horatio.
Then we set out into the rice fields and through plantations. What looks initially to me like rain forest is in fact cultivated with many varied plants; for example at any point along the side of the path there might be clove trees, bananas, nutmeg, coffee, guava, avocado and pineapples all growing alongside and underneath each other. Even the bamboo is planted, so that it can be used for making irrigation channels, building and also to keep the water in the soil in the dry season. The rice terraces are beautiful and the rice harvest is finished in most fields, but we come across one area where they are still at work cutting the rice and threshing.
Rice terraces surrounded by plantations
Rice threshing
When the rice has been harvested the terraces are flooded and are ploughed while flooded.
Fallow rice terraces
Ploughing with cows
Meanwhile the new rice plants are growing in nursery beds, ready for the next planting.
Nursery beds of rice
The small houses in the fields are not where the families live full-time. They have houses in the village, but these places are just where they can rest and cook etc while they are working in the fields. I ask Putu why they don’t live on their land and he said that the land is designated for agriculture, so no permanent buildings are allowed to be built here and anyway the people choose to live together in the village where there are the necessary facilities of shops etc. and community life.
Cow shed
We stop in one field which belongs to Putu’s brother and wife. Here the rice is being dried and has to be turned over several times.
In another field he points out his mother. She is 67 and retired, but still likes to come and work in the rice fields. She is raking the rice to turn it as it dries. I ask if I can meet her. She doesn’t speak English, but she is friendly and smiles broadly, as all Balinese do. Her teeth are all over the place. She is wearing an old cotton shirt that is fastened at the chest with a safety pin, revealing her breasts. Through Putu she asks if I would like some coconut. Putu said he climbed a tree yesterday to pick some nuts and there is one left. She goes to fetch it and moves nimbly through the field. The Putu cuts the top off the nut with a machete and pours out the coconut milk. The nuts gives 3 big glasses of almost clear liquid that tastes fresh and delicious and not like any coconut milk that I have had from a nut at home. Then Putu cuts out some of the coconut flesh and it is soft and sweet. He talks about family life. It is important to have sons because they stay and support the family, whereas girls will go and live with their husband’s family when they get married. Each child in the family is given a role, as decided by the parents e.g. who will look after the parents, who is responsible for financial matters etc. and the children accept these role.
Putu and his mother
We leave the rice fields and walk through more plantation and then start to climb steeply up hill. We come to a spring, which is a holy place and Putu makes an offering here to the spring with a small palm leaf saucer filled with flowers, a couple of incense sticks and a coin. He asks me if I would like to pray too and when I say yes, he gives me a scarf to tie around my waist and we each take a flower from the offering and hold it in our hands as we make our wishes or prayers. Then we put the flower behind our right ears.
As we continue on we meet two small boys on their way home from school. They generally go to school from 6 or 7 o’clock until 11 o’clock. They look cheeky in their school uniforms and pose for their photograph. I don’t think they meant to make rude gestures – they were just posing.
We look out across the valley back towards Munduk village on the ridge and can see rain heading our way.
Inside the Banyan tree
As we climb into the hills we drive through a village that Kadek says is the most prosperous in the whole of Bali. The houses here certainly look more substantial. The wealth comes from coffee and he says that most high ranking officials and government officers come from this village, because the prosperity means that the children have better schooling and therefore better opportunities.
We arrive in the village of Munduk, which is strung out along the road and there are distant views of the coast. I book into my accommodation. It definitely feels cooler here and there is no fan in my room; hopefully because it isn’t necessary. The shutters are open to a fantastic view of rice fields, plantations and distant hills. Perhaps I will be able to sleep better here in the cooler air.
View from my window
Centre of Munduk village
In the afternoon I take a walk through the village and then along a track through the forest (I learn later that this is in fact plantation) to visit a local waterfallIt is a beautiful spot with a rustic café nearby.
Track to the waterfall
Waterfall
I am the only customer in the café. On the recommendation of the café owner I order ‘Lak Lak’. This is a sweet dish of small sticky rice flour cakes, topped with syrup and grated coconut. As I eat them slowly while gazing at the waterfall, some music starts playing. First of all I assume the owner has put on a CD, but when I look round he is sitting on the floor playing a traditional bamboo xylophone. It takes me a while to place the tune and then I realise it is ‘Old Lang Syne’! Truly a surreal moment.
Bamboo xylophone
The next day I have arranged to go for a trek in the local area. My guide is Putu, a 29 year old local man. He has excellent English and is obviously proud of where he lives and is keen to share his knowledge of the area and Balinese culture with me. First of all we walk down the main street and he points out an old house left over from Dutch colonisation. Then we visit the village market. Putu says the stalls begin to be set up at 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning and they carry on trading until about 11 o’clock or when they have sold their produce.
Dutch colonial house
Market
I have noticed that many Balinese people seem to have the same names as each other and I ask Putu to explain. He says that children are named by their position in the family. The first-born child will be called Wayan, Gede or Putu; the second-born, Made, Kadek or Nengah; the third born, Nyoman or Komang and the fourth-born, Ketut. If there are more than 4 children, they go back to the start of the list. That system would put a lot of baby name book compilers out of a job in the west; but it could save a lot of arguments and heart ache as couples would no longer need to debate whether they ought to call their precious offspring after Uncle Horatio.
Then we set out into the rice fields and through plantations. What looks initially to me like rain forest is in fact cultivated with many varied plants; for example at any point along the side of the path there might be clove trees, bananas, nutmeg, coffee, guava, avocado and pineapples all growing alongside and underneath each other. Even the bamboo is planted, so that it can be used for making irrigation channels, building and also to keep the water in the soil in the dry season. The rice terraces are beautiful and the rice harvest is finished in most fields, but we come across one area where they are still at work cutting the rice and threshing.
Rice terraces surrounded by plantations
Rice threshing
When the rice has been harvested the terraces are flooded and are ploughed while flooded.
Fallow rice terraces
Ploughing with cows
Nursery beds of rice
The small houses in the fields are not where the families live full-time. They have houses in the village, but these places are just where they can rest and cook etc while they are working in the fields. I ask Putu why they don’t live on their land and he said that the land is designated for agriculture, so no permanent buildings are allowed to be built here and anyway the people choose to live together in the village where there are the necessary facilities of shops etc. and community life.
Cow shed
Women carrying rice
We stop in one field which belongs to Putu’s brother and wife. Here the rice is being dried and has to be turned over several times.
Drying the rice
In another field he points out his mother. She is 67 and retired, but still likes to come and work in the rice fields. She is raking the rice to turn it as it dries. I ask if I can meet her. She doesn’t speak English, but she is friendly and smiles broadly, as all Balinese do. Her teeth are all over the place. She is wearing an old cotton shirt that is fastened at the chest with a safety pin, revealing her breasts. Through Putu she asks if I would like some coconut. Putu said he climbed a tree yesterday to pick some nuts and there is one left. She goes to fetch it and moves nimbly through the field. The Putu cuts the top off the nut with a machete and pours out the coconut milk. The nuts gives 3 big glasses of almost clear liquid that tastes fresh and delicious and not like any coconut milk that I have had from a nut at home. Then Putu cuts out some of the coconut flesh and it is soft and sweet. He talks about family life. It is important to have sons because they stay and support the family, whereas girls will go and live with their husband’s family when they get married. Each child in the family is given a role, as decided by the parents e.g. who will look after the parents, who is responsible for financial matters etc. and the children accept these role.
Cutting the coconut
We leave the rice fields and walk through more plantation and then start to climb steeply up hill. We come to a spring, which is a holy place and Putu makes an offering here to the spring with a small palm leaf saucer filled with flowers, a couple of incense sticks and a coin. He asks me if I would like to pray too and when I say yes, he gives me a scarf to tie around my waist and we each take a flower from the offering and hold it in our hands as we make our wishes or prayers. Then we put the flower behind our right ears.
Holy spring
As we continue on we meet two small boys on their way home from school. They generally go to school from 6 or 7 o’clock until 11 o’clock. They look cheeky in their school uniforms and pose for their photograph. I don’t think they meant to make rude gestures – they were just posing.
School boys walking home
We look out across the valley back towards Munduk village on the ridge and can see rain heading our way.
Rain on the way
Our next stop is to visit the banyan tree and we hurry to get there before the rain really starts. Putu explains that banyan trees are very rare and this one is sacred and is where 350 patriot soldiers hid from the Japanese during the occupation of Bali in the 2nd world war. I ask him if the tree is protected as it is so special and he answers, ‘Yes, by the spirits’. I guess with that sort of protection, government protection isn’t required. We get there just as the rain starts. There is a barn-type structure here that is used for local meetings and events, so we shelter there and have our lunch. The banyan tree is enormous and next to it are two temples; one is to the spirit of the banyan tree and the other is to… I forget what.
Banyan tree
Next to the tree is a sign which says, ‘The women during menstruating period is forbidden to enter.
No menstruating women may enter
I ask Putu about why this is and he says that menstrual blood is not healthy for the spirits. A menstruating woman is also not allowed to enter a temple.
Putu makes another offering here and we pray again. Then, as te sign doesn't apply to me, we go round through the Banyan tree temple and can walk inside the tree between the roots and trunks. Inside it is enormous and has spaces that you can walk through or clamber up into. I can now see how 350 soldiers could hide in here. Bali declared its independence from the Dutch and Japanese on 15 August 1945, immediately after the Japanese surrender, although the Dutch didn’t recognise this until 4 years later, but this is the date the Balinese celebrate as Independence Day each year.
Putu makes another offering here and we pray again. Then, as te sign doesn't apply to me, we go round through the Banyan tree temple and can walk inside the tree between the roots and trunks. Inside it is enormous and has spaces that you can walk through or clamber up into. I can now see how 350 soldiers could hide in here. Bali declared its independence from the Dutch and Japanese on 15 August 1945, immediately after the Japanese surrender, although the Dutch didn’t recognise this until 4 years later, but this is the date the Balinese celebrate as Independence Day each year.
Inside the Banyan tree
As we leave the banyan tree it is now raining heavily and for the first time since I was in China (which was about 6 weeks ago) I put on my rain coat – not because it hasn’t rained since then, but because when it has rained, it has generally been too hot to wear a coat and an umbrella has been a better option. Putu decides that we need to cut the walk short because the rain is making it very slippery underfoot. We carefully descend to the river and then climb back up the other side and back to the village. As we walk in the rain I ask Putu about what Kadek had said yesterday about travel not being in the Balinese culture and therefore the Balinese not aspiring to travel. He answered that they generally don’t have the time or the money to travel. They work at least 6 days a weeks and spend about a 1/4 of their income on their religion, so there isn’t anything left for travel. But, he says, he would like to travel if he could – he would like to go to Lombok.
It has been a fantastic walk and thanks to my excellent guide, who was so shiningly proud of everything he had to show me and tell me, I have learnt and seen a lot about Balinese culture. I like what I have learnt and seen.
1 comment:
Oh my goodness - how spooky- the gods must have been communicating in some way as we too sang Auld lang Syne with the Devonlies on the same day!!! Love Wendy x x
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