Going to the Mountains

Several destinations today, but we got to avoid the highway traffic. Instead, we finally had a chance to observe life inland...away from the coast. Roads are narrow and winding, lots of cars and motorbikes, not to mention pedestrians, but between villages we were surrounded by rice paddies and mountainside/terraced agricultural areas with corn, peanuts, eggplant, tomatoes, pandanus plants, and much more. One traffic congestion turned out to be a cremation. Dozens of people were in a field beside the road, and it looked like some stands were being set up with food. A metal box was in the field, fully engulfed in flames. Our driver Ketut told us that each village has its own traditions regarding cremation. In his village, the ceremony for cremations is held only once a year whereas other villages may have more events. When asked what happens when someone dies in between, his answer was unclear, but he indicated that the body is buried until time for the ceremony. So, is the body itself buried or are ashes buried, then dug up? The important thing seems to be the Hindu ceremony near a temple when the whole village can turn out to honor the deceased.

Our first stop was to visit a village. We were met at the car by a young woman who led us up a path to a coffee and tea area set in the woods. She pointed out the different coffee beans, as an older woman in a hut stirred some beans in a shallow pan over a fire. Slow to catch on, LuRue finally recognized that one of the coffees was Luwak Coffee. Montana was puzzled by the whole idea and finally educated us both after researching it this evening. Apparently, early coffee plantation workers were not allowed to brew the coffee beans they grew and harvested, so they cleverly figured out that they could collect the beans after they had traveled, mostly undigested, through the GI tract of the palm civet. At the end of our coffee tour, we were given several different flavors of teas that were grown and made there.

Admission to many places here is always referred to as a donation and is usually 10,000 Indonesian rupiah or about 70 cents. We were next met by a local man who escorted us through the village, explaining that it is about 400 years old. His family has lived there for generations. He now lives there with his wife and 2-yr-old boy after working awhile in Denpasar, the capital. When he invited us into his home (up some stone stairs), we were surprised to see that the interior was all set up with display cases and racks of scarves. He led us over to a workstation where he does calligraphy. LuRue had been waiting to be inspired before buying a souvenir. Caught between not liking to be constantly hassled to buy things and recognizing that these people are trying to make a living, this seemed to be the right time. She didn’t have enough money (350,000 rupiah or $26), but the man said that our driver would pay him, then LuRue could pay the driver back (which she did). We noticed as we strolled through the village that other activities were taking place, such as women were weaving in their homes. It looks like the people take turns guiding visitors into the village. Our guide told us about a mock fight/dance that takes place annually in the village during which visitors can attend.

Winding our way to the next destination, we were escorted to another “donation” booth for admission to a water palace. Ketut’s tourist booklet described this as a Rajah’s country home, built in the middle of the 20th century. A combination of pools, plants, and statues, it is now a lovely park. Ketut said that it is also used as a source of water when needed for rice fields, etc.

Before we left, our manager Kukus had asked Ketut to pick up some mangos for him at a market, so we toured a small section of the market while he bought 2 kilos of mangos. It was full of a great variety of fruits and vegetables, all of which, Ketut said, is grown on Bali.

When we reached our final spot of the day, “White Sandy Beach”, we learned that Ketut was negotiating with a guard at a gate. The guard poked his head into the passenger-side window, looked straight at LuRue, then lifted the gate to let us through. Apparently, most people have to walk the rocky, somewhat steep road down to the beach...approximately quarter to half-mile. Age has its benefits!!

The beach was lined with umbrellas and lounge racks...some with plastic mattresses. Ladies came to greet and to lure us to their particular lounges. But Montana and LuRue played in the surf for an hour and a half, trying to catch breaking waves and riding them up onto the beach. They were rolled and tossed around like so much flotsam and jetsam. When they got out, they headed to a pipe labeled “Shower”. After LuRue figured out how to turn on the water and had caught a few dribbles, a guy showed up and started talking to Montana. All LuRue heard was, “...not my group.” Apparently, the shower is reserved on some basis that wasn’t at all obvious.

We were grateful to get back to the car and be driven up the rocky hill. Montana said she felt like royalty as we passed all the people trudging up and down.

The first order of business after getting back to the hotel was dealing with the buckets of sand we had accumulated in our bathing suits. Putu told us to use the shower by the swimming pool. LuRue had managed to get most of it out while still in the sea, but Montana’s sand had migrated by osmosis between the two layers of her swimsuit. While we worked at the pool shower, we could get the clumps of sand either into the straps or into the crotch, but couldn’t find an opening anywhere. We finally had to cut an opening with scissors. There must have been at least a cup of sand in her suit.

For dinner, we headed to Vincent’s Restaurant, said to be the #1 spot in Candidasa...about a 10-minute walk from our hotel. We each made a selection from the Balinese section and ended with an exotic dessert of white chocolate mousse wrapped in milk chocolate and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

PS to “The Torture Chamber”...In spite of visible bruises, especially on legs, the arthritic knee stood up beautifully today. The crick in the back (left shoulder blade) was never worked on specifically (who would ask for more of the same at that point???), but it disappeared today by sitting straight while in the car and not twisting to look at everything interesting thing that happened to appear in the window.