Unusual Bali: Monkeys and Volcanoes
By Mike Stratton
Unfortunately, I'm afflicted with hopelessly outdated romantic notions about how the world is supposed to be, thanks to spending an inordinate amount of time reading while growing up. So I've developed these images of a more elegant world in my own head, keeping them alive through daydreaming and blissful ignorance. And the more I travel, the more difficult it becomes to find these snippets and snapshots of my imagined world, created from stitching together a lifetime of words and pictures. But on those occasions when I find bits and pieces of that better place, a place that exemplifies how life is supposed to be, then that is what learning and discovery are all about. And I found the ideal balance between past and present in the archipelago of Indonesian islands, a nation of 18,000 islands large and small, created thanks to the Earth's slowly (but sometimes rapidly) moving plate tectonics. That ever-grinding conveyor belt created an island called Bali, on the boundary between the Indian Ocean and the Java Sea, a place very far away in terms of relative proximity and yet much closer to my own naive, idealistic dream.
The stunning Ceking Tegalalang Rice Terrace near Ubud, Bali, Indonesia. One of those man-made wonders farmed largely by women. The sights you see when you visit far-away lands.
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After two hours of steep climbing in total darkness, aided only by flashlights, we arrived at the summit of Mt. Batur, elevation 5,633 feet. Now we awaited the sunrise, Mt. Agung in the distance, rising from the waters of the Indian Ocean.
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Indonesia remains a mystery to most Americans, with Bali crossing our collective radar thanks to a highly-publicized terrorist attack on its shores more than a decade ago. But my personal notions about this island were formed long ago, and regardless of recent incidents, they were pleasantly confirmed during my nearly three weeks traversing the tropical volcanic playground. And while it took almost that long to slow down and fully integrate myself into the Balinese lifestyle, the journey toward becoming truly Balinese was a revelation, as it revealed a different way of living, thinking and existing. And being American, I'm stubborn, and these changes took time to gain traction. It is an unusual place this island called Bali.
Hindu and Polite to a Fault The island is predominantly Hindu, and that means simply that everyone is nice and quick to smile and polite to a fault. No one feels the need to exhibit any posturing, aggressive behavior, because that behavior would be deemed impolite. And unnecessary, because status and envy and fear and jealously and paranoia are priorities pretty low on the scale of importance in Bali, and those negative traits and characteristics make about as much sense as carrying a teapot in the desert. Some things you just don't need. I found myself slowly realizing I no longer needed to lock the door to my villa, or even close the door for that matter, with all my money and passport on the dresser. Unthinkable, right? Well not in some parts of the world, and that realization is not only illuminating, but raises questions why the rest of the world isn't the same way. What's in the water there? Why aren't they norm? Isn't this how the world is supposed to be, a place where everyone is nice to each other, and where trust and respect are an untaught, understood comportment? Mysterious place this Indonesia. |
There was a ceremony for this little dude at a shrine in the Sacred Monkey Forest. The kid kept losing grasp of his fathers hand as they climbed the steps, and his father would continually seek out his son's hand.
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Darkness arrives at the beach community of Amed, a sleepy enclave at the ends of the earth. The food is all local in the mom and pop joints that light up at night. We're pretty isolated thanks to the enormous fields of rice paddies and those big, beautiful volcanoes. Errr, mountains. Great place to find yourself lost.
A Decidedly Different Vibe
There are places in Bali that resemble what many small islands in the Caribbean might have looked like, in the 1930's. And for me, that is a romantic notion, of an underdeveloped place largely untouched and unaffected by the speedboat of technological advancement. And in a town called Amed, on Bali's mountainous northeastern coast, you feel this decidedly different vibe. They only received electricity within the past 15 years, and because of their geographic isolation, they remain a quiet, one bumpy road community, located between the ocean and a ridge line of beautiful, tree-covered green mountains. I would like to think the select few backpackers and divers who joined me in Amed felt the same romantic notions about the quiet town we shared, but we were all there for the same reasons, as that isolation and teleportation to a simpler state of existence is something that can't be bought, only discovered. The locals in Amed fish and farm and build their homes with black volcanic sand and stone, with bamboo and palm leaves for roofs. They farm fruits and vegetables and rice in the narrow foothills of the mountains, where they raise a smattering of cows and pigs. Chickens run wild throughout the town, and they are a continual auditory reminder of how eating local takes on an entirely new meaning in little enclaves like this. Delicious. The chief mode of transportation is the scooter, and in a country of hundreds of millions of scooters, you feel as comfortable riding on two wheels in Bali as you do strapped in to your American SUV.
There are places in Bali that resemble what many small islands in the Caribbean might have looked like, in the 1930's. And for me, that is a romantic notion, of an underdeveloped place largely untouched and unaffected by the speedboat of technological advancement. And in a town called Amed, on Bali's mountainous northeastern coast, you feel this decidedly different vibe. They only received electricity within the past 15 years, and because of their geographic isolation, they remain a quiet, one bumpy road community, located between the ocean and a ridge line of beautiful, tree-covered green mountains. I would like to think the select few backpackers and divers who joined me in Amed felt the same romantic notions about the quiet town we shared, but we were all there for the same reasons, as that isolation and teleportation to a simpler state of existence is something that can't be bought, only discovered. The locals in Amed fish and farm and build their homes with black volcanic sand and stone, with bamboo and palm leaves for roofs. They farm fruits and vegetables and rice in the narrow foothills of the mountains, where they raise a smattering of cows and pigs. Chickens run wild throughout the town, and they are a continual auditory reminder of how eating local takes on an entirely new meaning in little enclaves like this. Delicious. The chief mode of transportation is the scooter, and in a country of hundreds of millions of scooters, you feel as comfortable riding on two wheels in Bali as you do strapped in to your American SUV.
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Indonesia is a festive land. Here, fishermen provide a tranquil respite from the evening's descent into celebration. I love their hats. The guy on the right had a painted ceramic bowl made into a cap. That's cool. Sanur, Bali, Indonesia. |
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But to have fun and experience Bali to the fullest extent, you have to NOT think like an American. Consequences are of little concern there, because personal responsibility is exactly what is suggests, and no one is paralyzed with fear of the lawsuit infrastructure. As usual in Bali, some things aren't necessary. I jumped in the back of pickup trucks, hopped on any available, un-vetted scooter, ate the sketchiest of roadside food, and climbed volcanoes in the dark, all without signing a liability waiver of any kind. Americans are conditioned to view life defensively, as if something bad is sure to occur. Other parts of the world have a different outlook, and maybe that rubs off on a visitor, if they are lucky. Now true, few people in Bali wear seat belts (on occasions when they do find themselves in an auto), and most everyone smokes, but no one in the government is telling them they have to, or that they shouldn't. Now that's a novel approach. Besides, if I had thought like an American, I would have denied myself the true pleasure of any vacation, those moments that make traveling more than just changing my location on the planet, but ones that change my outlook about the planet.
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It's 6:30 in the a.m. in Indonesia. Hey, we don't put seat belts in our buses, so it's virtually the same thing...
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I mean, really. What is up, Monkey? That's what I say every time I see a monkey. Little freaks. Anywhoo, this monkey was hanging around the top of Mt. Batur , waiting on trekkers to hand out their bananas. And smart enough to enjoy the spectacular views. Monkeys.
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Living in the Moment
Because once I allowed my western paranoia take a backseat to the eastern philosophies of living in the moment, I found myself snorkeling above a 70 year-old shipwreck off the pebbly beaches of Amed, chasing the ethereal rays filtering beneath the surface and swimming with hundreds of fish of every conceivable color. And since I started to go with the flow, I took the leap and hiked up the steep sides of an active volcano at 4 in the morning, beneath the starriest of skies, a really staggering number of stars encouraging me higher and higher, where I finally achieved my goal of watching dogs chase monkeys, errr, I mean, watching a unparalleled sunrise, a mile high in the sky. Because if traveling has taught me anything, it is that dogs really, really don't like monkeys. Some of the world's largest volcanic eruptions have occurred in Indonesia, and that spectacular Ring of Fire has created some of the most impressive mountains on the planet, and even with the monkeys scurrying around at the peak, I remembered how I dreamed of places like this when I was a kid, amazed by tales of the eruptions of Tambora and Krakatoa. So to find myself atop a volcano inside a larger volcano within the island chain Indonesia, that realization is very humbling and unimaginably thrilling. |
Descending Mt. Batur in daylight wasn't much easier than climbing it in the dark. The trail of volcanic rock-strewn gullies and loose sand and rock made keeping your balance a challenge. Hard to believe no one in our group broke an ankle or leg--or fell over the side to their death. Whew!
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No Ax to Grind
But Bali is an easy sell, because the people there have no anxiety, no edge and no ax to grind. They are religious, but in the most understated of ways, which is another novel idea. The island smells fantastic, because aromatic incense fills every doorway, porch and stoop, thanks to the Hindu offerings that make up a twice daily ritual of Balinese life. They are a fit bunch, because they eat fish and veggies every day, and they are a happy bunch, because they eat fish and veggies every day. Maybe that is why the entire island has such a mild temperament, because how can you be uptight about anything when you eat fish and veggies every day. The anxiety-free Balinese simply push their boats off the beach in the morning darkness to catch fish, under the watchful gaze of a 10,000 foot high mountain/volcano, a silent reminder of the past, present and future, because when that thing blows, you better have your affairs in order. And the women wear brilliantly colorful dresses as they attend a most relaxed and easy-going Full Moon ceremony, where they bring elaborate and beautiful gifts of food and flowers as an offering to the gods, and then carry them home, which is a lot more practical than that money-plate thing they do at church. There's a novel idea: Put the money in the money-plate thing, and then you get it back when you leave the church. I can get behind that. |
Amazing morning in Indonesia, walking among the chickens and humans at the market in Tulic, and the ladies that dominate the front of the house. One of my favorite experiences and photos ever.
This gracious Balinese family invited me to their home and gave me water when I was in distress, thanks to the vigorous climb and smokin' heat. They live at the top of an impressive, mountainous wall of green, overlooking the Java Sea. They live way up in those thar hills. Thanks gracious Balinese family.
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But leaving such an unusual and fantastic island is always sad, especially because arriving back in Fortress America is always culture shock no matter how far you travel or how long you've been away. And for this journey, returning to America left me questioning why we haven't figured out a way to create a society where no one feels the need to arm themselves and every one is nice to strangers. I can get behind that, and while I'm still naive, I now know places like Bali do exist, and not just inside my imagination.
Me and the little dude (son of my hostess) dressed to the nines for the Full Moon Ceremony, with the atmosphere of the county fair. I was told ittle dude looked a lot more fly than me. I'm not sure what that means.
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Me, dressed in the proper attire for the Full Moon Ceremony. I call this "Cultural Undercover." Amed, Bali, Indonesia.
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Pick up a flower and wave it through the incense smoke in front of you. Place the flower in both palms and raise hands to your head. This is performed 4 times, first with empty palms, then with flowers that you place above your ears each occurence. The entire ceremony lasts about 15-20 minutes. You sit on the ground cross-legged on your flip-flops.
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