Being in Bali at this time of the year is an incredible, unexpected experience, marked with many spiritual milestones. It begins with Galungan celebrating the victory of dharma over adharma, the triumph of good over evil, and ancestral spirits visit. The streets are beautifully adorned with penjor, curved and decorated bamboo poles, along with offerings and smoldering incense. It’s striking. But as a foreigner it’s hard to understand these events and gain access to them, which is why we joined David Metcalf – Kerry the photographer, me the observer!
A major celebration is Melasti, a Hindu Balinese purification ceremony and ritual parading holy symbols and offerings with a procession to the water. Each banjar (village) is made up of about 60 families, who have their Melasti ceremony according to a timetable. It’s an amazing operation with the Balinese dress in their brightly coloured formal attire, squeezed into truck with costumes, offerings, umbrellas, gold casks and musical instruments.
At the beach they unload and unpack in an efficient and orderly manner, musicians in one area, the priest in the middle, offerings laid out on a table facing the water and the banjar members sitting on the ground, being blessed, praying and cleansing.
It’s deeply spiritual but also festive, fun and a time to celebrate. There is a carnival atmosphere with balloons and stalls selling everything for food to sunglasses (I’m promised they’re Prada by one of the hawkers)! Among the worshiping throngs are children with bubble guns, laughing, the street food sellers quietly wander in and out selling their delicacies. In the background their makeshift kitchens are smoking up a storm – the smells are delicious.
The priest sits on a stand blessing the throngs of worshipers, incense are burning, gongs are sounding and cymbals clanging… it’s a cacophony of sight, sound and smell. The procession to the ocean is a stunning march of offerings, umbrellas, families gathered, kids frolicking in the water. But there is a strong sense of serenity, a strong feeling of faith, a belief in this ritual that goes back hundreds of years. It’s an honour to be present, to experience such a mystical ceremony and all that comes with it.
Ok, it’s a cliché but we’re on tour so we head to a small village to have local food cooked by the villagers. They’ve grown all the food and raised the animals. There’s a kitchen set up for cooking classes and after lunch we watch a couple of local girls perform their traditional dances. It was pleasant, and good to see local village tourism working. The highlight was for the photographers in the group – they took everything from performance photos to portraits, and the results were spectacular.
Early the next morning we head to El Lago, a restaurant on the busy Penelokan main road that offers a decent view of the Kintamani volcanoes, with Mount Batur Abung and Mount Agung looming on the horizon. The still volcanic crater that is Lake Batur shimmer in the distance with dense, vibrant jungle below. The morning was cloudy so no outstanding shots but the power, strength and intensity of this area is palpable.
We make our way down to a village that’s said to be 700 years old, with some original structures still standing (that’s local legend, hopefully it’s true)! It’s stunning from the start, with the streets of Penglipuran picture perfect. It’s spotlessly clean, immaculately maintained and a vibrant kaleidoscope of colours as the villagers appears through their doorways. They are purposefully walking to the temples that overlook the village, with baskets stacked high on their heads, overflowing with offerings. The procession of families, father and son, mother and daughter, the old and the young, it was delightful. There are giggles and greeting as they pass in the street. And surprisingly there are very few tourists – this is a hidden treasure, a special place where local life exists in an extraordinary bubble.
We don sarongs to look inside the temples, it’s Kuningan another spiritual and special day so there’s steady stream of worshipers and bamboo baskets full of fruit, flowers and food showing gratitude. It’s a day for formal attire, the superb silks in vibrant yellows and gold, ruby reds, royal blues. Stunning ancient temples among the lush jungle with worshipers studiously giving thanks, it’s divine. The temples are open air, more like walled gardens with structures and monuments to place offerings and incense before a quiet time of worship. The they move onto the next. It’s not a quick process, there’s at least 20 different stops, but it’s precise.
A little closer to Ubud is the 12th century Goa Garba, an ancient meditation cave, hidden by the river, down a long set of stairs. On the riverbank hides the cave carved into the wall around the 11th AD for King Jayapangus (it’s an archaeological site so not precise). An enormous banyan tree hangs precariously over the area, surrounded by the sounds of nature, the flow of the river below, the birds singing, the crickets chirping… it’s serene, silent and soothing. We crawled and climbed our way out up massive steps of stone, passing through the colossal ancient gates. It is something special.
Ogah Ogah is the day before Nyepi (silent day). It’s an incredible celebration where Ogoh-ogoh statues are built for the Ngrupuk parade which runs well into the night but the entire day is a build up to the parade. The banjars start work on the statue’s months out, they are mostly in the form of mythological beings, demons and the sins of the world. It’s a night to make a lot of noise so the bad spirits will be warned off the island for another year, and it often ends with them being burnt in the local cemetery – not a night for the faint hearted! The planning, time, effort and skill that goes into the giant paper, bamboo or foam statues is astounding, they really are works of art. There are no rules, no regulations. They are so high that there are nominated guys to lift the electricity lines with bamboo sticks. It often goes awry and I’d think there’s a few houses without power for a while as lines are often snagged. It’s an OH&S disaster… no-one cares! Crowd control doesn’t exist as everyone, both young and old, scatter as they spin and twirl the huge floats through the streets. It’s spectacular! The crowd is excited and enthusiastic, the noise deafening with cheers of appreciation and roars of delight, everyone is there to celebrate, it’s a joy to be a part of.
Then comes the silent day – Nyepi. A day of introspection, and for the devout, fasting. Quiet in the house, quiet in the body, for 24 hours. Everyone stays indoors, all businesses shut, curtains are drawn, no lights and for 24 hours the island reflects. With tourism so important, the resorts still operate, but the streets are empty, noise is kept to a minimum and, amazingly, everyone adheres.
It’s an island with soul, there’s a deep sense of faith and family, and at this time of the year, you can immerse yourself in the moment and experience a little of the ancient spirit of Bali.
Then comes Tuesday and life returns to the chaotic norm of moped, motorbikes, cars, trucks, buses, people, dogs, cats and pedestrians! It’s the hustle and bustle we know but there is a sense of balance, restored equilibrium… and the new year is underway.
