A Day of Culture and New Appreciations

Our time in Ubud has been very different from our days in Candidasa. Just about every day there, we were transported by car or by a Balinese jukung (traditional fishing boat) to another location. Jenny from Reef & Rainforest has put us in a very good location here, as most of our activities have been within walking distance. Today we just went across the street and down a few doors to the Laka Leke Restaurant that also offers several activities.

As seems to be the custom, we were met with a welcome drink when we showed up at 11:00 for our first class...egg painting. As it turned out, all three planned activities (Balinese dance and offerings, the other two) were on the same platform which was covered by a roof--all open air and very pleasant.

Yesterday, the return driver from the batik class said his name was Ketut. Montana asked if that is a common name here, since our Candidasa driver was also Ketut. Then we got a lesson in Balinese names. Though there are a few variations, there are four basic names on Bali. They are given according to birth order and can be either male or female. Ignoring the variations for the moment, "Wayan" is the eldest child, Made the second, Nyoman the third, and Ketut the fourth-born. If there are more children, they are named the same, but with the Balinese word for "again" added on...essentially "Wayan again".

Our egg painting teacher was named Made (Mah-day), so we knew that he was the second-born and probably didn't live with his parents. We were right. He said he has a wife, who is a tailor, and a daughter who is 16, in school, and was one of the performers in the Children's Balinese dance we saw a couple of nights ago. He and his wife apparently had two babies that "came too soon" before their daughter was born. We asked if the women go to the hospital to have babies...they do.

Made had everything ready for us--several duck eggs with "coloring book designs" from which to choose. Montana and LuRue each chose flowers. He said that he learned the skill of painting eggs starting when he was seven years old, an art form passed down from his father, and his grandfather before him. He demonstrated how to use the tiny brushes, and occasionally showed the next little flourish that added interest to our "coloring book eggs." LuRue bought one of his professional eggs.

As we were finishing up, a woman came to the platform and began laying out some things. Though we didn't get her name (she speaks very little English), it turned out that she was our teacher for the next two activities. Since we had a choice, we asked to do the Balinese dance class first. After two hours of sitting on the floor, it felt good to stand up and move around. She placed sarongs around our waists, then launched into hand, arm, shoulder, hip, knee, feet, head, chin, and eye movements. After a couple of practice runs, she had a guy put on some music. Montana and LuRue jerked around, trying to keep up with the hand motions, the deep knee bends, balancing on one foot, the darting eyes, the shimmies and the shakes...much to the amusement of some Western tourists that Montana saw videoing us. Great! Our teacher encouraged us to stop a couple of times to drink water & eat some cake they had brought us.

Next, we were back on the floor to learn how to make Balinese offerings...the small baskets that are placed in front of doors every morning as part of the Hindu religion. She had many palm fronds and some sort of thin, stiff reeds to use as fasteners that could be snapped off after securing pieces together. Montana and LuRue both failed that part. The reeds kept snapping off in all the wrong places. The teacher would kindly take pity and help after several failed attempts. The activity also involved using very sharp knives pointed straight at your fingers (ready to chop them of with one little mistake), which freaked Montana out. In the end, we each made two small trays, each one with different decorative designs. The final touch was filling them with fresh flowers. After we returned to the hotel, Montana gave them to Reception, so they will be used.

Montana speculated that the women who make these every morning might be competing for who finishes first or who comes up with a new design. We both have new respect for the women who make the dozens we see being carried around each morning to be placed in front of each door.

We had sat down to figure out our final finances earlier in the day, so after classes were finished, we headed through the Monkey Forest via the motorbike trail toward the nearest ATM. Since it was located next to the Dirty Duck Restaurant, we decided on an early dinner. What better place to try Crispy Duck! We shared a meal, which was enough, but both of us did a double-take with the half-duck that made it to the table. After steaming, the duck is deep fried, which pretty much shrivels the meat off the bones and arrives at the table looking like a brown skeleton. We found enough meat for a meal, but it wasn't overkill. And it was very good!

The Dirty Duck Restaurant has an interesting story for how it got its name. The place started in the 1990s when the surrounding area was all rice fields. They had been trying to think of a catchy name for awhile and it was a few days before opening day. All of a sudden, a troop of ducks walked though the place leaving their dirty webbed footprints all over. And so that is what inspired the name.

Just before getting back on the motorbike trail back through the Monkey Forest, we had to try yet another gelato place. We are thinking of putting out a Bali Gelato Guide. Maybe we will get a discount.

Montana went for a swim in the hotel pool, but had to share it with four other guests. We got spoiled at the Watergarden, as it was pretty much our private pool.

LuRue's knees, hips, and feet were complaining, so she just went back to the room to give them a rest and to write today's blog.