You Never Know What The Rains Will Bring

November 1, 2010

At 10am yesterday I left with my friend (the one who owns a school canteen), Opik, to explore the island more. I thought I was prepared with my sarong, poncho, sunscreen, sunglasses and camera, but I was wholly unprepared. I also should have brought hiking shoes, insect repellent, long-sleeves, and hostess gifts. We began our sightseeing with a temple and you can see I attempted yoga in the meditation alcove. Just after this photo was snapped I tipped over! Back on the road we stumbled upon a religious procession. You can see that beer bottles are used as vases. Many things get recycled and reused here. Soon we were on our way to the volcano, but a downpour started. We had the ponchos, but it’s no fun driving/riding a motorbike in the pelting rain and we were in no rush. So we ducked under an awning for a closed mechanic shop. We teased one another that we looked like aliens in our ponchos and we swapped stories. Later another biker did the same and we exchanged greetings, but didn’t talk further. More time passed and the other biker, Made (maa-day), asked if we had matches. Neither my friend nor I smoke, but I happened to grab a matchbook at a café that morning for my candle. With this we began talking more. He didn’t speak English well so mostly he and my friend talked and I got some translations. This is where the wonderful unexpected twists of the day began.

Suddenly we are invited for a drink with his friend and to go bat hunting. I was thrilled and excited by the invitation as well as the opportunity to get off the beaten path, but the hunting part was a bit though for me to wrap my head around. Ironically the bat hunting was happening on Halloween! I did feel better knowing he was hunting bats for food, not just for sport. We still had to wait out the rain. Made is wood carver so I thought at some point during the day he’d show me some work to buy, but he never did. Finally, after 45 minutes under the awning the rain had subsided enough that we could hit the road. This time I road on Made’s bike because the engine of Opik’s bike (actually it was his friend’s) had trouble going up the hills with the two of us. At times I thought we might have to push the bike up! So off we went to a village along a lake that is surrounded by the volcano and other mountains.

We had to detour around some flooded sections of the road, but it was a beautiful ride. The misty rain clouds hovering over the mountains created quite a dramatic landscape. We joined Made’s friend and a relative for coffee. I’m not a coffee drinker, but did my best sipping away at the strong black Balinese coffee. They had fun talking about the Luwak coffee (ie. the poop coffee) and want me to try it. It’s very expensive so I doubt they even have it often. The relative was a friendly woman with a generous smile, but she didn’t speak much within the group. I think in mixed groups men tend to do more of the conversing here. The guys were getting their guns ready. I’m no expert about guns – despite foreign notions about Americans – but I think these were pellet air guns. The rain was still coming down and it turned out we were also waiting on another hunter, the woman’s husband. They asked if we would like lunch. The building with this sitting room is separate from other parts of the house and there’s a concrete courtyard with the chickens and dogs meandering about. We crossed the courtyard to the kitchen where we ate on the floor (we had been on the floor for coffee too). The meditation room was adjacent.

You can see the meal I was served. Her husband’s a fisherman so our lunch was a recent catch of his. I had to work hard to eat it, but it was very good. If you always argued with your parents growing up about not eating with your hands then you must come to Bali. Eating with your hands is preferred and the closer intimacy with the food makes it taste better. You don’t have metal throwing off the flavor. Before the meal we washed our hands in a bowl of water and scooped our rice and fish onto individual plates. We also had fish soup. I was sure the meal would come back to haunt me today, but so far I’m fine (knock on wood). The fish is served whole so I had to take the bones out – an art I am still learning. But you eat the skin and tips of the fins (crunchy!). I took forever to eat as I constantly had to pull bones out of my mouth. I did enjoy the meal though and thought it extremely generous to offer so much to strangers. The husband arrived while we were eating and I’m sure was a bit surprised to two strangers in his kitchen, one a white, blonde woman. He didn’t smile as much as the others, but didn’t seem to mind Opik and me tagging along.

After the meal they brought out the local Balinese alcohol. They had made it and you can see in the picture it is a mix of fruits and I don’t know what. Wayan is proudly posing with his concoction. There was even a seahorse in there! Again they insisted I try it so they gave me a shot glass full. I didn’t down it in one go as they hoped, but I did try it. I didn’t finish the glass though, Made did. I thought either the drink would definitely make me sick or kill any sickness newly arrived in my stomach.

Three hours after the rains had begun we went hunting! We’ll we made some stops along the way. This seems to be the Bali way. We first went to a crudely built snack and drink stand in a remote area. At least I thought it was just a store. It was actually a home. Behind the table of items for sale was a double bed and some cooking supplies. There were elders, infants and everyone in between. They invited me to sit down, but under the tarp with the food the flies were everywhere. So I soon returned outside and though I still had to contend with the flies there were fewer. I have a picture of this shelter and you can see the roof is a tarp. A few feet away they throw their garbage into a very small ravine. I saw firsthand the poor sanitation that I’d read about in a newspaper soon after my arrival. Wrappers and other trash were strewn all over. There is no concept of litter here – it is acceptable and normal practice.

The hunters and their friends “practiced” shooting. They didn’t waste ammo by actually shooting much, but somehow they were practicing. I walked with Made closer to the lake and saw another home. This one looked a bit more stable; it was enclosed and made of wood. There was an outside alcove attachment for the kitchen using what we’d consider camping supplies. For instance, there was a portable gas stove. I have it pictured here as well.

Even though these living conditions are rough people were friendly, generous and seemingly accepting of the situation. They did not complain about their circumstances.

Once again we took off to hunt – I thought. We walked in a volcanic rock field at the foothills of the volcano, but I guess Made and Wayan (his friend we had coffee with) were practicing again. My flip flops somehow managed up and down the rugged and sharp volcanic rocks. There wasn’t really a path so we went through some tall grasses and made our own way. I wasn’t the only one taking pictures. The guys also had fun posing with their guns for Wayan’s camera phone. Soon we hiked back to the bikes. Next we really went off to hunt.

On our way we passed a cigarette advertisement being shot with a mustang. The car seemed so out of place in this remote poor area, but it generated much attention. We joined up with “the husband” who had picked up a woman along the way. Not sure, but she might have come because of her spiritual work. The men looked at a few caves to decide which would be the lucky one and decided on a deep one hidden by trees. Before they could hunt they had to conduct a religious ritual and made offerings. It is a poor picture, but I wanted to include it so you can see the shrine down in the cave and the beginnings of their ritual. Later as we left I could smell the incense ascending from another opening into the ground. I was not invited into the cave and was perfectly content to keep my distance. I was especially glad I had stayed above when they came up about an hour later with cuts and scrapes (they had gone in barefoot) and two bats.

Before they came up, Opik and I entertain ourselves and for a little bit we could hear American ‘80s music coming from the lakeside. The clouds also came back so we hoped the rains wouldn’t return. Luckily, the rains held out. Up until the time the men came out of the cave I had been having a wonderful time, but the moment I had dreaded arrived. They had their bats and soon I realized that at least one was still breathing. This is the worst part of killing to me. I don’t want the animal to suffer the pain and terror. I then happened to look in the wrong direction at the wrong time and saw “the husband” swinging the bats’ heads against a rock. I turned away and tried to console myself that they were dead now. But one still wasn’t! We got back to the bikes and the bats were put into red plastic bags. (As a side note, I read in the NYT that two US companies are about to switch to a more humane was of killing chickens. The method would lessen the terror because carbon dioxide would be used to make the chickens go unconscious before a machine lifts their feet and slits their throats – ugh!)

Opik and I thought our time with our new friends was over, but Made again pulled into some houses along the lake. Opik asked him and was reassured that it would just be a few minutes. We still needed Made’s more powerful motorbike to get me out of the mountains. We all went to the lake side and the hunters cleaned their cuts. Wayan had a gash on his leg, but had a stiff upper lip. Too bad I didn’t have my crazy glue! Just out from the shore were fish farms and a few men out in their hollowed out tree canoes. As I was taking a picture of one man he looked at me and I held my breath waiting for his reaction. I hoped he wouldn’t be annoyed or angry that I was talking his photo. Fortunately, he was the complete opposite and gave me a huge genuine smile and waved. He is the patriarch of the houses here. Also, on the lake were two women cleaning clothes while young children stood by. One child, less than two years old, was wailing and crying and received no comfort or attention. Again, I’m seeing various ideas of parenting as I travel. No one seemed to mind having their picture taken and some even posed when they knew it was coming. Opik and I walked to the kitchen to see what they were making and these two beautiful women were inside, mother and daughter (maybe she is one of the wives?). I could only make out green beans and a pot brewing on the fire. Through Opik I asked if I could take a picture. I just meant as they were, but they moved to the doorway with their bowls. Their smiles and eyes gave such warmth, especially the mother. Balinese hospitality to strangers is unparalleled in my experience.

The patriarch called for us to join him in the living room so we didn’t get to talk with the ladies. As we walked he lamented that his English wasn’t good and said he hadn’t gone to school. Next to the living room was a room with a bed and large television and speakers. A woman was lying on the bed nursing her baby. In the living room, he offered us seats on a couch in a concrete block room with a cabinet and no electricity. He proudly told me he has 16 children with 2 wives (polygamy is legal here). His children range in age between 43 and 2, with some grandchildren older than his younger kids. Three of his daughters have married Americans and Englishmen and now live abroad. A few live in other parts of Bali. However, much of the family seems to live around him. I don’t know his age, but given his oldest child he must be around 60 years old, but the years have aged him so much more. Life expectancy is 68 here so he is among the oldest I’ve seen.

Other men began to build a fire outside and Opik told me they were going to cook fish. I didn’t know that I wanted to go through the “art” of eating fish again so told Opik I didn’t know that I’d want more. He said they were making it in my honor! We’ll obviously I prepared the artist in me. The patriarch starting cutting bamboo and I realized he was making the spears to cook the fish over the fire. He worked deftly with a tool that seemed a cross between a machete and a sickle. I decided not to take photos so as not to turn them into National Geographic specimens or create a distance between us. A couple of men connected some wires by melting pieces of plastic bag around them. They then attached a light bulb and hung it outside the living room. Other men began preparing other parts of the meal. I helped peel some small onions – maybe pearl – but was so slow in the darkness that my help was really only a token offering. The onions were pulled from their gardens and looked like garlic cloves. They added peppers, garlic and other unknown spices to the mixture. I loved working by the fire and smelling the smoke. As I worked I got tired of squatting on my feet so I sat down with my legs crossed and everyone chuckled. The fish struggled for breath in a nearby net.

Once the patriarch finished making the skewers he retired back into the living room. He invited us back in so I didn’t help with the rest of the meal. This time we all sat on the floor. Occasionally, the patriarch in his concrete room wearing his sarong, shirt and Marlboro cowboy hat would pull out his Blackberry.

Soon dinner was served in our dimly lit living room. I found it not only interesting that men were preparing the meal, but that only men ate it (besides me). I supposed women ate the meal that was planned before my arrival. Again, we washed our hands in a bowl (I also snuck some of my hand sanitizer) and then dished up our plates. I was to pick my fish first and I asked Opik which I should take. He pointed to one and I grabbed it. As I brought it closer I realized it was the head and I was holding the eye! I put it back and told Opik that eating fish this way was adventurous enough for me that I couldn’t handle the head yet. Hopefully, I didn’t offend anyone! Opik took the same piece and gave me the meat part without the head. I had a couple of helpings along with rice. It tasted very good, but was spicy. At one point my lips and tongue were on fire. It was hot even for Opik – that made me feel better. Opik told me that they said to share a meal this way meant we were now part of the family and I am always welcome. I felt so honored and fortunate to have the day bring such gifts. I would love to go back, but have no idea how to find the place!

After dinner we rinsed our hands again, but Opik didn’t like the fishy smell of his hands so asked for my hand sanitizer. That gained the interest of others so before I knew it almost everyone was using it. The patriarch didn’t want any though.

Opik got my camera out so you can see some of the pictures here. People were happy to jump into the pictures and the patriarch asked me specifically to take one of him and Opik. He had a big smile for that one so I think they really hit it off. One man (the one to my left as I ate) who spoke a small amount of English was concerned about my well-being. The mountains are chillier than Ubud and he was thinking of me riding back on the motorbike. During dinner I had wrapped my sarong around my shoulders, which also amused them. That was enough to keep me warm though. Opik laughed at the multi-functional use of my sarong. The gentleman lives near Tirta Empul that is much lower in the mountains so he offered to drive me down and Opik would follow. So this is what we did and Made took off before we left. I thanked him for all he had done, but I can’t imagine he knows what yesterday meant to me. I wish I had had something with me to at least give him, the patriarch and the woman who gave me lunch. I would have given my sarong, but I’m borrowing it from a friend so it isn’t mine to give.

We said our goodbyes around 8pm and I was sad to say goodbye. I had a comfortable ride in an SUV while Opik puttered behind on the motorbike. I’m sure he was cold. He went to so much trouble for me. He had worked the night before and only gotten home at 3am. Then we head out at 10am. He also had borrowed the bike from a friend in Denpasar so last night he drove there and spent the night. But then he had to get up especially early to get back for work this morning at the school. I think he also had a good time yesterday, but now he’s sleep deprived! He has offered that if any of my friends come to Bali that he’ll show them around so let me know.

An experience like this is one of the reasons I am taking this trip. After today and other experiences on this trip, I have lots to “pay forward!”

Today I have not been off the beaten path at all. I spent a couple of hours buying my ticket to Kalimantan, had lunch at a tourist restaurant (no fish, no bones) and paid a resort $3 to use a lovely infinity pool overlooking a rice field.

Tomorrow is the cremation for the king so hopefully I can make my way in the crowds to see it. Then I head to Kalimantan (the Indonesian part of Borneo) to see “my family” as everyone says here (aka orangutans). The rivers and seaside also sound wonderful to explore.