More on ceremonies

Some additional comments about ceremonies.

On the way home from our Seminyak weekend on Sunday, we passed an enormous gathering in the village of Lotunduh. Everyone looked extra smart, especially the women, who all wore headbands, their hair done in a particular way, a white lace kebaya and a yellow sash. This is the best I could do from the car and we are still not sure what it was about.

On Sunday evening we became aware of something else going, on fairly close by, that went into the early hours. It wasn't the usual chanting, but more a commentary by various voices, male and female, over a loudspeaker. We found out the next morning that this was one of the final ceremonies for the cremation that we watched a few weeks ago. The families were speaking for their loved ones before the ashes are taken to the river for their final journey to the sea, so that rebirth can occur.

There's something to learn every day.

Cremation day

Sunday's cremations in Ubud - there were five separate villages involved that we were aware of - were probably years in the planning. The Balinese calendar had decreed this to be a particularly auspicious day to send loved ones on their next journey, so what we witnessed would have been happening all over the island.

We walked a short way to the next village of Lungsiakan where 43 families were involved. At one stage we were standing next to an English girl who was asking a lot of questions of a European expat. Her interest and expensive camera made us wonder if she later filed this report for The Daily Mail. Hope the headline wasn't her choice; it's a crude summation of this significant final rite of passage. The number of bodies quoted in the article is correct for the next village, Kedewatan, but it's only a short distance away and she may well have been at both.

We have attended cremations in the past, most recently the spectacular royal event at the Palace. This one, however, was much more intimate, particularly being in the compound with the families before the procession to the cremation ground. Many spectators were unaware that sarong and sash were required dress if they wanted to enter the compound. Several sellers were on hand to make a small profit from their lack of cultural knowledge, and the visitors have also learned something.

We noticed people wearing numbers to identify the mourning parties, quite a few priests and many children. No towers - this was a ceremony for ordinary people. The bulls were relatively small, and some were winged and red.

It must cost a relative fortune to fulfil this essential rite, so often families must wait years before they can pay. We heard of one situation that took 36 years before a cremation could be held.

We are still learning. We don't know why children or young people travel with the bull*, for example, and can only guess at the symbolic releasing of chickens at the cremation ground. We will ask, of course, but haven't yet done so.

The cremation ground, behind the famous Naughty Nuri's warung, was packed and had a festival air with balloon and food sellers. We knew that proceedings would go on for the rest of the day and well into the night, so took our leave. Just as well, as Eddie succumbed to heat stroke shortly after and has spent the last couple of days feeling distinctly unwell.

Last night we watched a borrowed DVD of films made in Bali in the 1930s and 40s. Several had no commentary and the silent-movie text contained Dutch-influenced spelling of names such as Poutou (Putu) and Gousti (Gusti). A cremation however, looked exactly the same (except for the bare breasts) as we had witnessed just a few days before, so despite all the changes, tradition continues. Not a plastic bag in sight in those days though, and it wasn't hard to imagine how exotic Bali must have seemed to those long-ago audiences.

The journey is not quite over. In a few days there will be another procession to take the ashes down to the river where they will flow to the sea. Only then will the spirit be free to return to the next incarnation - as the newest child in the family.

* We have since learned that the youngest child in the family travels with the bull.

A little bit of this...

...and a little bit of that.

Just a catchup post, really. I really want to write a post about the Bali caste system and the complex system of names (yes, it is complex - a million Wayans is only a part of the story) as much to get things clear in my own head as any other reason. But it requires some research, so watch this space.

As mentioned in the photographs earlier, flags and bunting have started to appear. Independence Day is celebrated on 17 August, and as well as the profusion of red and white we have noticed that small marching contingents have begun practice-parading the streets. Groups of school students, led by a teacher (?) can be seen and heard along the roads as they march, sing and call 'left, left, left, right, left'  only in Bahasa Indonesia (kiri, kiri, kiri, kanan, kiri). As we still have two weeks to go, this nationalism can only increase. As well as ceremonial processions, these will add another layer of congestion to the traffic.

In the past week we have been down to the coast three times, for various reasons. You need to allow at least two hours from Ubud anywhere in the Denpasar vicinity although it's less than a 40km journey. Sadie has generally proved to be a reliable guide, with mercifully long periods of silence if the road is straight. But she hasn't been programmed to deal with ceremonies. And there are plenty. Some just involve a patient wait while the procession passes, others a complete detour. Sadie and both of us are equally discombobulated if this happens as we really have no idea where we are headed. Sadie wants us to get back exactly where we were but the pecalang will have none of it. So it's round and round we go through the back streets (Kerobokan yesterday) until we sight a road sign (rare) or some landmark that matches the physical map.

Never plan to be anywhere in a hurry if it involves driving. The Balinese don't speak of jam karet (rubber time) for nothing.

Seminyak is full of new hotel construction.  Quite amazing, given that occupancy rates are already low. It's always quite a relief to return to Ubud.  It has its problems, but it's still very green. Long may that continue.

Speaking of Independence Day, Betel Nut has selected this date to screen a film I had already read a lot about. It speaks volumes about how far things have come since the Soeharto era  that this will be happening. We will be there of course and you can expect a post.

The next few weeks will be busy with holidays. Idul Fitri (Lebaran, locally, Muslim or not) occurs later this week and the shops are marking the occasion with displays rather like Western Easter chocolate extravaganzas. Ubud seems strangely quiet. Walking down Hanoman last night after 9pm it was almost eerie in its emptiness, yet this is the high tourism season. Apparently there won't be a plane seat to anywhere else in Indonesia this week as many people return to their families for this holiday.

And in the village of Kedewatan (just around the corner) there will be a mass cremation of 60 people later in the month. We have passed the pavilion where the bulls are being made several times. Such a big ceremony is not uncommon. Ordinary people wait up to five years until they can afford to farewell their loved ones, and this way the ceremonial expenses are shared. It should be quite a spectacle.

I am working on the caste post, but it might take a while. I would normally be a bit more creative with image layout, but I am working in less than conducive circumstances, but hey, ho the impression is the thing.

Three funerals and a wedding

It's called 'snore' by those who are looking for a party life, but our most recent trips to Sanur have been far from boring. Last year we found ourselves there by default as the tail end of a cyclone had made our Amed accommodation uninhabitable. We secured comfortable walk-in accommodation, but during the night were roused by sirens. Well, it's a bit noisier than Ubud so to be expected. But the talk at breakfast was all about the shootings. Apparently police had been tracking a terrorist cell for five months in Java. When they moved to Bali, Sanur to be precise, they wasted no time in storming their cheap hotel and shooting them. Dead. All three. And that was only a couple of hundred metres down the road. Another two in Denpasar.  So boring? Not that time.

Yesterday we decided on the spur of the moment to catch a bus down to Sanur Beach. It's less than an hour's drive from Ubud, and you pass the traditional rice-growing areas as well as craft villages specialising in wood, stone and silver. In one we saw the preparations for a wedding, with everyone beautifully dressed and the gorgeous decorations all down the gang (alley) to the village hall.

Sanur itself had been hit by a severe storm in the early hours. We were unaware of this but the heavy surf swell and the debris - broken boats, rubbish, shoes (many shoes) - scattered along the beach told the tale. Tourists headed to Nusa Lembongan had to brave the heavy swell to get out to the outrigger that would take them there.
This provided some entertainment, but shortly afterwards, the dog patrol appeared. Armed with blowpipes they circled any stray dog on the beach and aimed. The yelping indicated that the feathered dart had reached its target. It wasn't pretty to watch but we were told that it is a government program to vaccinate the dogs, who quickly shook off their annoyance, were banded with a yellow collar and left to go their way. A good thing.

Sanur, being very flat, is ripe for a tsunami and warnings along the beach indicate the direction to run should there be an event. It's not a comforting thought. Provided everyone is evacuated in time though, it would be no bad thing for what is surely Bali's ugliest hotel (right on the beach front) with its even uglier wedding pavilion to disappear. There is no planning in Bali. Unfortunately.

We didn't expect to find a turtle conservation project right on the beach, but here it was, and all donations to keep it going are gratefully received.










Nor did we expect to find another cremation. Actually two. Much simpler affairs than any we had seen before, with the cremation bull constructed of simple bamboo. Loads of people participating and watching. A real community thing.

So what was intended to be a simple stroll along the beach provided endless interest. Sanur is much quieter than Kuta, but the stall holders are very keen to have you 'just look' at their wares. 'Persistent' would not be an exaggeration. But firmness and good humour usually saves the day, if not entirely to the shopkeeper's satisfaction.

And the third funeral? Just as we were leaving, traffic stopped for a long procession led by women, followed by the men and a walking gamelan. We were told they were on the way to the beach to scatter ashes from an earlier cremation. The Balinese certainly know how to do death.

Boring? Not this time either.

Event of the year

I'll let the pictures do most of the talking. Ubud was packed with locals, hawkers, tourists and participants for the huge event. A beautiful morning turned torrential as the tower proceeded down Jl Raya Ubud, as if on wheels, to the cemetery after about an hour of preliminaries. It was incredible to watch that team of men lift, twirl and carry that immense tower. Auspicious rain or not? Who knows. I only know that we virtually swam home, beyond drenched, and the camera died. Possibly permanently.  Fortunately the card was OK but we couldn't take any pics of the smaller, and in many ways, more dignified second cremation. The same attention to detail on a much, much smaller scale. All the more impressive because the bearers had to run that tower and the bull up a very, very steep hill.

However, the Royal event was an incredible experience. Impossible to convey the noise of the gamelan and the cheering when they finally managed to get the body into the tower after a great effort up the white ramp. Good humour prevailed all day.

 Added later

In case this doesn't work for you, you should be able to links to the images here.

Some other information about the cremation has appeared in the Jakarta Post.

Sorry about the music, you can see why in the comments. If I can make it go away, I will.

And even later:

More photos from the Ubud Now and Then website.

Routines, or not...

In the week since we arrived the rhythms of our day have shifted. It's early to bed, early to rise and two meals a day - our usual Bali pattern and we slip into it almost without realising. An early coffee, a swim, then reading an ebook and checking the online newspapers, followed by a latish breakfast around ten. We don't eat again until somewhere between four and five, when we have a fairly substantial meal.

This morning our American neighbours told us about a restaurant that has sprung up in Jl Goutama since we were last here. The couple are permanents who are building their dream home on one of the ridges. It's taken over two years so far and probably won't be finished any time soon, but that's OK by them.

One of the benefits of eating when we do is that we have the full attention of the kitchen and excellent service. Another is that we can walk the meal off on the way home while its still light, thereby avoiding the traps of falling into a deep hole on a dimly lit footpath or being attacked by a rogue frangipani.

Dolce Arancia proved to be as good as we had been told. A bit more expensive (at around $26) each than we usually pay for an evening meal but for three delicious courses and coffee, worth it. After a vegie day yesterday, we felt a need for meat, and the steak (and home-made Pringly crisped potatoes) filled the gap.

Goutama (sometimes Gootama) is a charming, tree-lined narrow street that runs parallel to Jl Monkey Forest. As well as the usual spas, clothing and gift shops, there are a number of lokal warungs, and as well as this new restaurant, other excellent eating places such as Nomad, Bar Luna, Pignou di Penyu and a favorite of ours, The Melting Wok. It is the street chosen by the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival for its annual street party. There are plenty of reasons to visit often.

Walking past the Palace on the way home it was obvious that everyone had been working hard. The tower is up and the bamboo litters that the men will use to carry the body to the cemetery have been constructed. Tomorrow will be a big day but it might be a good idea to stay well clear - we have seen a large Ogoh-ogoh monster topple and it was nowhere as big as this.

Shaken but not stirred

Now that Eddie is feeling a little better, we walked up to town today to see how the preparations are coming along for Tuesday's cremation ceremonies. Wayan Arjuna, who has sponsored us for this stay*, told us last night that each banjar (the community of the various temples) has the same specific task for every cremation and has done for hundreds of years. His banjar is responsible for making the white steps that lead to the tower. The beautiful bull will hold the body for the actual cremation.

Ubud today was much busier than it has been. By the activity in the palace grounds there is still a lot to do before Tuesday.

 We went looking for the other cremation, but could not find it where we had been told it was happening.

Walking in this town presents a few hazards. The foothpaths are a disaster, so you tend to keep an eye on where your feet are headed. Which means that I totally failed to see the frangipani that deliberately stuck its branch out at head height just as I reached it. The result was a graceless tumble and a literal egg head. Shaken but not stirred. Eddie now gallantly stands next to every potentially hazardous overhanging branch to prevent a recurrence.

The other problem with walking in this climate is that feet swell so uncomfortably that shoes and sandals that fit perfectly well at home rub and cause blisters. Liz, why didn't we bring your Wonder Wool Ease! The tropical fashionista look is somewhat deglamorised by multiple bandaid applications.

However we succeeded in a couple of tasks - organising two pairs of comfy, cool trousers to be copied from a pair I left as a pattern, and locating a hairdresser who knows how to deal with Western hair. Apparently this is important, as most locally trained hairdressers can't deal with the very different texture of our hair.

We also had a delicious lunch at Down To Earth, an organic, vegetarian cafe discovered an recommended by Meg and Burns on their last trip. The (non alcoholic) ginger beer was amazing. Frothy like a milkshake, with cinnamon on top, but made with a ginger and palm oil syrup so very sharp and spicy. You'd have to like ginger, but if you do...

*I plan to talk about visas in another post.

On matters medical, political and spiritual

Eddie has been unwell since getting here, so he has finally been persuaded to see a doctor. After receiving a thorough going over at Ubud's Toya Medical Clinic on Jl Raya Pengosekan it turns out he has bronchitis. The clinic is recommended, should you find yourself in need of medical assistance when in town. No need to take the scripts away. His three lots of medication were presented after a short wait in this thoughtful paper bag. Nice touch.

Meanwhile we have learned that a two-week workshop on 'palpable forgiveness' will be held next week at an ashram across the road. We had been chatting to an older lady who has flown from the US to attend. Her mobility is not wonderful, and she has never been to Bali before, so it's been quite a journey for her. Last night, while we were having dinner, an Australian man checked in. Tall, salt-of-the-earth, practical sort of fellow. You'd take him for a farmer. Left his home in a NSW country town more than 12 hours earlier, and was dressed 'properly' - in other words, not Bali style. Friendly, outgoing in that way we Australians are, and not the most likely person you would imagine to be attending an ashram. But that's why he's here he tells us, and he too is a Bali virgin. By breakfast, he had found his shorts and was deep in conversation with the US lady. They had both been to the chanting earlier in the morning.

I had judged this particular book by his cover, and how wrong I was. People never fail to surprise.

Next Wednesday is a public holiday. Bali will be electing a new governor and the banners spruiking the virtues and promises of the various candidates are flying. Not so much on this side of town, but certainly all along the road to Denpasar. Unusually, too, on that day Tuesday there will be two cremations. One for a member of the palace  (a diplomat but not a royal we are told*), the other for someone less important. The paths won't be crossing though. Apparently the mourners for the second cremation are not allowed into the cemetery. Meanwhile the men are hard at work at the palace building the massive structure that will take the deceased to the funeral pyre. Ubud is unbelievably quiet (even the monkeys seem to be on strike, and the dogs have disappeared) so this royal event on Wednesday might bring some much needed business to town. This YouTube video gives an idea of what is involved.



* As this is a Facebook link, it might not open for everyone.