Candi Dasa

There are lizards here. Chee-chucks (because of the sound they make). There are ants of different varieties: the small black ones like those in the England of my childhood, miniature versions of these too, much larger brownish ones with the same form as the huge black ones in Montreal, then these weird orange and brown ones with a dark-brown back end and an orangey-red body/thorax, so much lighter than the rest that they look disembodied. This morning I saw a huge bat, as I walked closer it swiveled its head to keep an eye on me. Who was looking at whom? I guess we both were. Its inquisitive, beady little eyes stare down at me as it hangs upside down. It makes me think of a fox.

The sea is right outside my bedroom. When I close my eyes I can hear it, like a heartbeat keeping time. These bungalows are set amidst a gorgeous garden with different fish ponds and coconut and banana palms, not to mention orchids dotted around the place. The sea is at the end of this garden walk, with brightly coloured banana boats waiting to go out beyond the sea wall... Yesterday evening I sat and watched the lady whose husband owns this place as she and a girl made ceremonial items out of palm leaves. Their precision was amazing as they cut the leaves into different shapes then joined them all together with hard little sticks to create a wonderful three dimensional hanging that is used at the temple. They will make thirty in about an hour or so, taking it slowly. Ahkti is a very modern-minded Balinese woman. Her English is very good, and she has no qualms in telling me what she thinks about the inequality between the sexes here. Women here are not allowed to drink, or smoke, and traditionally were not allowed to work outside the home, thought that is changing. When a woman marries she has to go and live with her husbands family, and she has to cook, clean and do all the household chores, and create all the ceremonial items (other than the huge pajor which tower above the streets at this time of year, which are made by men). Men however, drink, smoke, and gamble. When I praise Ahkti on her English, she tells me that she comes from Denpassar and learned at school; they have special English departments here, Do we have Indonesian departments at universities in England and Canada? She smiles as she asks, already knowing the answer.

Candi Dasa is a pretty little seaside town, and very quiet. I visit a Bali Aga village where the traditional Balinese live. They practice all sorts of crafts and were extremely friendly; however the parts of the village that tourists were allowed to see were like one big market – we are not allowed to observe the various religious and ceremonial practices that take place here on a daily basis. I was offered a trip to the nearby Water Palace by the man who took me up to the village and back. Having bargained down the price I accepted, and it was quite a journey. Riding on the back of his bike at a very sedate speed, we went up hills and through an urban centre with a scary military-looking security force at a roundabout then off past paddy fields and fruit vendors to the Water Palace. Much cooler than in Candi Dasa, this is where the King and his family would go to relax and take a leisurely bath. It is an amazing place, with water water everywhere. Different pools are spread around the area with the precision of a Victorian garden; the first on the right contains many koi carp and has carved stepping stones creating a meandering path through it and the statues within it. There is another huge pool to the left with a bridge over it where famous Indonesian bands come and perform. Then there are the bathing pools... fresh spring water that is meant to have therapeutic benefits awaits, so cool and calm amid the trees. I cannot resist to take a dip... it is glorious – the surroundings, the cool, clean water, the light splish-splash as I dive under, looking out over a tree-clad landscape. I close my eyes, and float.