Bali (III) - DKT Page 18

Ty stayed home to do schoolwork while Dan and Kaaren went shopping in downtown Ubud . . . bought heaps of clothing for ridiculously cheap prices.

After dinner we attended a Legong dance and gamelan music at Ubud Palace. We didn't know the centuries-old legends that are portrayed by the dances, but it mattered little as we were enthralled by exotic sounds of the percussion orchestra and the vision of brilliantly attired dancers acting out the story.

Our favorite dance was that of 'Jauk'. He is a demonic character who improvises his dance as he goes along, and the musicians must play according to his movements. The split-second delay between his jerky motion and the music that immediately follows was exciting and provocative.

This morning started out with a visit to a textile factory in the village of Gianyar. The owner took us on a tour and described each step of the dying and weaving processes as we went along. It begins with artisans designing new patterns based on age-old designs, by tying colored thread onto tightly strung wooden frames. Thread is dyed exactly according to the pattern, and then woven into the finished product. Kaaren bought a piece of ikat.

Then we drove north with Ningah over an all-but-impassable road to his family village up in the mountains. They don't see many white faces there and we felt like a very special attraction. Over an open hearth his mother and sister had prepared quite a feast for us, including:

smoked duck (whole - with head, feet, and all), stuffed with duck eggs

fried duck

duck satay on sticks

balinese rice (from their own rice paddies)

fried eels (from their own rice paddies)

vegetable dishes we don't know of what . . .bintang beer

It was delicious and we are stuffed.

After lunch we went on a walk through the paddies, hunting dragonflies with long wands armed at the tip with gluey sap from the jackfruit tree. A little boy pulled the critters off the sticks and put them into a baggie . . . they are used to make dragonfly soup, a cherished delicacy in their diet. We're a little bit glad it wasn't offered at lunch.

Visited another temple today; the 600 year-old 'Elephant Temple' near Ubud. This kindly old crone sold us temple offerings. She thought it was pretty funny when we told her we that we knew full well we'd paid her ten times the going rate for her tiny baskets of rice.

This morning Ningah came by and told us that he was going to take us to a cremation ceremony in the village of Bangli. We're not sure why this ceremony is occurring now, as we'd been told that the most auspicious month for cremations is August.

As we approached Bangli we started noticing people dressed in dark-colored finery and carrying baskets of offerings, all headed for the grove where cremation ceremonies have been held for centuries. Three bodies will be cremated this morning and as we draw near it is apparent by the rising smoke and ashes that one is well under way. It's unfortunate that we are late in arriving because we did not get to witness the procession in which the disinterred bodies are carried through the streets in towering funereal palanquins. Young men carrying the gaudy caskets on their shoulders chant and sing, and run around in circles, attempting to confuse evil spirits that might follow the body and hinder passage of the soul into the next realm.

There is nothing somber about the affair. A gamelan orchestra is seated under a canopy making music, and vendors sell food, drinks and offerings. For the family of each deceased an area is set aside where a priest dressed in white conducts a ceremony. It is richly decorated in flowers, offerings, and icons.

This demonic character represents the third member of the Hindu trilogy, the 'destroyer' (I've forgotten his real name).

He is feared, but also revered as the 'recycler' . . . the one who causes one's undoing in this tawdry world, so that the soul is able to move along to another, perhaps better life.

Then the body is unpacked from the casket it was brought in, and the same young men run around the pyre with it several times, eventually placing it within the pyre itself.

The motif of the pyre is determined by caste. This one, a lion, is reserved for the second highest caste.

Next of kin place final offerings around the base of the pyre and the flame is lit.

Wood is in too short supply to use anymore as the primary fuel, so the fire is fed by kerosene running down a garden hose from a five gallon can hoisted high in a coconut tree.

Eventually the bottom of the pyre burns through and the body falls into the flames below. Attendants with long bamboo poles poke at the burning mass to ensure that everything is ultimately consumed.

Later, after the ashes have cooled, the family will collect a small container of ashes and bits of bone to be scattered on the sea.

We were left thinking that it's as good a way as any to dispose of mortal clay. People appeared to have a good time. Though members of the immediate family seemed thoughtful and quiet, time for tears was in the past and presumably they were content in the belief that the immortal spirit of their loved one was now released, to eventually be reincarnated in a more enlightened existence.

Once again we confront a wild morning of packing up. We are getting better at this. Kaaren is running around Monkey Forest looking for last-minute bargains. Ningah picks us up at 1030, and we say our goodbyes to Kokokan staff . . .

. . . especially sweet Desah, who waited on us at meals. We wish we could take her home with us.

It's hard to figure how it is that we keep finding these wonderful people who have so much enriched our travels and our lives.

Without dear Ningah, our time in Bali would have been an entirely different and vastly poorer experience. We hope to see you again someday.

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