Sibuk, sibuk

Or, busy, busy. After a couple of days of seclusion feeling blah, it was a surprise to venture out and see how busy everybody had become. It felt like Christmas Eve in the West, with increased traffic and longer than usual queues in the supermarket.

Some penjors are already in place, but apparently tomorrow is the correct day to put them up, Galungan Eve. As we were driving it became apparent that penjor work is men's work. Some completed poles were lying on their side, decorations being fine-tuned or waiting for the right time to go on full display; in other places groups of men still sat working on their creations. We even saw a motorbike this afternoon carrying two very green, obviously just-cut long bamboo poles - the Bali equivalent of the last-minute Christmas tree dash.

We did wonder, human nature being what it is, if there were penjor 'competitions': whose was the biggest and best in the village, much as our Christmas lights tend to become. But Balinese spirituality seems so much stronger than ours, and if some penjors are fancier than others it might be a show of wealth, but it is also a sincere tribute to the gods.

Bearing our gift of fruits and cakes, we called in at the family compound where we will be celebrating the holiday on Wednesday. Knowing how busy everyone is, we planned just a short visit, but soon realised that would be impossible. The compound has six dwellings, housing five generations, set in lovely grounds. Our immediate hosts, Dika and Ketut, insisted on stopping what they were doing, calling any children present and serving coffee, tea, pisang goreng (fried banana) and small cakes. The very oldest members of the family did not join us, but we will meet them formally on Wednesday. It struck us as such a sensible way to live: multi generational, children always with playmates and minders, yet a degree of privacy. The youngest child is not yet six months, the oldest adult well into his 80s.

Ketut showed me her room full of beautiful offerings, stacked almost to the ceiling, made by the women of the compound. Nowhere near finished, she assured me, but there was still time. Our fruit will be incorporated into one of those glorious towers that Balinese women carry on their heads to the temple. Tomorrow is cooking day for the Wednesday feast, so I am guessing that sleep will be in short supply tonight and tomorrow.

It is such a privilege to be so intimately involved with this celebration.