Tjokorda Raka, a chief of Ubud, stands on the steps outside his home.
Travel
That Old Bali Magic
The enigmatic allure of Bali, an Indonesian paradise, lies in its captivating essence.
Awoken by the enchanting sound of a traditional Indonesian gamelan, I am filled with a sense of wonder. As I peer out of my window in Seminyak, a bustling beach locale on this mystical island, I am greeted by a mesmerizing sight. A group of men, adorned in vibrant batik sarongs and exquisite headdresses, sit gracefully in the parking lot of a newly constructed nightclub, passionately striking gongs and xylophones. Unable to resist the urge to experience this magical moment, I hastily dress and rush down the stairs, eager to join them.
The bustling commotion in the morning reveals a fascinating Balinese ritual known as melaspas. This unique ceremony, exclusively observed in Bali, is held to invoke blessings upon the inauguration of a new structure. Through the resounding melodies of the gamelan, any negative forces are believed to be driven away. Stepping inside, my eyes meet the owner, a hospitable Balinese man in his thirties. His right arm adorned with an eye-catching crimson-and-cobalt tattoo, and a genuine Rolex gracefully adorns his left wrist. Beaming with confidence, Gede Wira Apsika informs me that he invested $4,000 in this elaborate celebration. He firmly believes that a splendid melaspas will ensure triumph for his club.
The dance floor is teeming with an array of vibrant offerings placed before the gods, such as towering piles of star fruit, oranges, and fragrant frangipani blossoms. Intricately designed sculptures made from carved pork rinds add a touch of artistic charm to the scene. Wafting incense gracefully dances in front of a state-of-the-art sound system, setting a harmonious backdrop for the proceedings.
The ceremonial arrival of the pedanda, the high priest, is an awe-inspiring event that brings forth the magical essence of Bali. Riding in a vintage black Mercedes sedan, concealed by the mystery of tinted windows, the pedanda's grand entrance is a sight to behold. Adorned in a magnificent long white robe, adorned with a black velvet crown intricately embroidered in gold, the pedanda takes his place on the elevated platform, draped in exquisite canopies, set up solely for this sacred ritual.
An acolyte, serving as an assistant, ties a duck and a chicken to a sturdy post, creating a visual spectacle as they flap their wings and express their presence with raucous squawks. Their animated commotion fills the air, setting the stage for the imminent climax of the ceremony. As the sun begins its descent towards the horizon, the pedanda, fulfilling his sacred duty, delicately slits the throats of the duck and the chicken, marking the conclusive moment of this profound ritual.
Tourists passing by are captivated by the captivating performances of ancient Balinese masked dancers, showcasing mythical tales featuring brave princes, mystical demons, and fierce dragons. Surprisingly, amidst this traditional spectacle, two bold drag artists join the lineup, delivering a cheeky interpretation of a typically delicate dance traditionally performed by young girls. These mesmerized spectators may be unaware, but they have stumbled upon a glimpse into the enchanting heart of Bali, immersing themselves in the vibrant rituals and profound beliefs deeply rooted in Balinese Hindu culture.
While some of these visitors may choose to embark on guided tours promising an authentic Bali experience, featuring classical Balinese dance performances or 4WD excursions into the lush forests, they will never come closer to discovering the essence of Bali than in this very moment, right here in the bustling parking lot of a new entertainment venue in Seminyak. With the vivid blend of tradition and contemporary expression, Bali's true spirit is alive and pulsating, embracing visitors with its irresistible allure.
When I made the decision to relocate to Bali 14 years ago, it was to join my Indonesian partner in his pursuit of opening a restaurant. Back then, this region was predominantly agricultural, with scattered spots of budget tourism amidst the lush coconut groves. From my bedroom window, I was treated to breathtaking views of expansive rice fields and on clear days, the distant smoldering volcanoes that grace this enchanting island.
However, as time passed, there was a gradual transformation of this once rural landscape. Farmlands were gradually replaced by towering hotels, trendy eateries, and fashionable boutique stores, all meticulously designed by ambitious entrepreneurs eager to establish their own version of Ibiza or South Beach in the Indonesian countryside. For those seeking to experience this transformation first hand, a trip to one of these modern paradoxes of luxury and simplicity is a must. To assist in finding the perfect place to stay, you might want to check out some of the best hotels at all-balihotels.net . This platform offers a comprehensive list of local lodging options, from budget-friendly choices to the most luxurious resorts. Here, you can dive deep into the evolution of Bali while comfortably residing in style.
Today, this evolving Bali seems worlds away from the tranquil haven I initially embraced. It serves as a reminder of the ever-changing nature of our surroundings, and the urgent need to strike a balance between development and preserving the authentic charm that has captivated travelers for generations.
Bali may present a modern facade, but beneath the surface lies the enduring enchantment of its ancient belief system. Despite the advances of the modern world, the spiritual essence of this island, home to millions, remains robust.
Immersing myself in the numinous heart of Bali becomes an irresistible urge after being captivated by a mesmerizing performance of sacred yet worldly dance accompanied by traditional gamelan music.
In the peaceful village of Pacung, serenity prevails, offering a captivating panorama of mystical volcanoes, lush rainforests, and meticulously crafted rice terraces.
Delving into the depths of Bali's rich cultural heritage opens up a world of wonders, where tradition seamlessly coexists with contemporary influences.
I BEGIN BY TRAVELING ABOUT AS FAR FROM Seminyak as I can go in both space and time, to the pristine forest of the West Bali National Park. Apart from a two-lane blacktop that cuts through the park and a low-impact resort on the northern seashore, the land is completely undeveloped. It remains just as it was when the island’s distinctive culture emerged thousands of years ago. Comprising 73 square miles of the island’s western tip, the park doesn’t boast attention-grabbing rhinos or orangutans as other nature preserves in Indonesia do; the Bali tiger was hunted to extinction by the 1940s. Yet herds of docile mouse deer wander the park, and southeast Asian porcupines and marbled cats abound.
During a tranquil morning horseback ride through the lush mangroves, I am accompanied by the stoic and rugged Ketut Sulastra, a knowledgeable park ranger who has spent his life in this vicinity. As we make our way, I am delighted by the sight of a pair of Bali starlings gracefully taking flight from a cluster of bamboo. These magnificent white mynah birds, which hold a special place in the hearts of the locals, are unfortunately among the most critically endangered species worldwide.
In the 1990s, there were a mere 15 of these stunning birds remaining in the wild. However, through concerted efforts in captive breeding programs, the population of Bali starlings has now increased to a promising count of at least 127. This tremendous conservation endeavor has helped to preserve the exquisite beauty that has come to symbolize the island.
As I reflect on these awe-inspiring sightings, I am reminded of a visit made by India's first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, in 1954. He famously referred to Bali as the "morning of the world," capturing its essence and spiritual significance. As I traverse this seemingly ancient landscape, I am transported to a time long ago, where nature's raw majesty unfurls before me, and I understand the essence of Nehru's words.
LIKE MOST INDIGENOUS BELIEFS, Bali’s religion of magic began as animism. At the top of the food chain here is the reticulated python, which has been known to gobble up children. When I ask Ketut if we might see a python, his cool ranger’s face melts away and he exclaims boyishly, “Oh my god! A few weeks ago I saw a big one, over ten feet long, that had just eaten a monitor lizard almost as big as he was.”
The stunning spectacle unfolded before Ketut's eyes, as a python battled a lizard to the death. With each desperate struggle, the lizard's legs tore through the python's skin, creating a mythical creature resembling a dragon. This awe-inspiring encounter epitomizes the raw and ancient essence of nature.
Reflecting on this scene, I am reminded of the captivating and transformative performances of traditional Indonesian shadow-puppet theater. These tales often feature gods disguised as fearsome creatures, only revealing their true identities in the climactic conclusion. Such narratives powerfully connect us to the rich cultural heritage of Indonesia.
As we venture into the heart of the park, the hustle and bustle of civilization fades away, leaving us enveloped in nature's embrace. Guided by Ketut, we navigate through a dry streambed teeming with the subtle sounds of scurrying lizards, trekking up a steep, verdant trail that winds past a cave adorned with a captivating python carving. Above us, macaques swing through the lush canopy, adding an exhilarating touch of wildness to our journey.
Reaching the pinnacle of the hill, we find ourselves in a serene paved plaza, surrounded by humble sheds draped in chicken wire. These rustic structures house weathered and moss-covered monoliths, serving as modest shrines that exude an ancient, mystical aura. Taking a moment to rest, we enjoy a refreshing pause, sipping on sport drinks and munching on peanuts from the cheerful stand of a toothless woman who caters to visitors like us.
Legend has it that the shrines found here were constructed by devoted individuals following the discovery of two graves believed to be remnants of the renowned Prince Jayaprana. Renowned in folklore, Jayaprana was an adopted son of a prestigious village leader who found himself at the center of a tragic love triangle. According to local guide Ketut, the ruler's relentless desire for Jayaprana's betrothed led to the prince's untimely demise in this very spot. The story goes that upon Jayaprana's death, an otherworldly fragrance enveloped the surrounding forest, provoking an outpouring of sorrow from the animal inhabitants. However, in a twist of fate, a white tiger emerged and exacted revenge upon the assassin responsible for Jayaprana's murder. Distraught by her loss, the princess chose to take her own life rather than submit to the wicked king, ultimately resting beside her beloved in this sacred burial ground.
Delving deeper into the tale, it becomes evident that the legend surrounding Prince Jayaprana speaks to the romantic allure and tragic consequences often associated with Bali's history. This enchanting island continues to captivate visitors with its rich cultural heritage and breathtaking landscapes.
In Bali, fascinating tales and traditions are woven into the fabric of everyday life. According to Ketut, a local storyteller, rumors circulate about the mystical powers of this enchanting land. While the truth behind these stories remains unknown, they hold a powerful sway over the beliefs of the people.
Inside the grandest temple, adorned with vibrant marigold yellow silk parasols, two women, dressed in their work sarongs, purchase incense from an elderly priest known as a pedanda. With reverence, they ignite the incense sticks, their clasped fingertips holding the fragrant smoke high as they chant a sacred mantra. The smoke dances around Jayaprana's grave, a peaceful tribute in the tranquil environment.
During religious ceremonies, offerings made from woven palm, bamboo leaves, and sticky rice are crafted to resemble elegant flowers and lush leaves. These intricate creations serve as a symbol of devotion and gratitude to the divine.
Ketut was asked about the significance behind people praying at the grave of Jayaprana, a mortal man who passed away many centuries ago. He casually explains that the people of Bali pray to Jayaprana due to his exceptional power, which remains as strong today as it was in ancient times.
This centuries-old tradition of reverence towards the martyred prince continues to hold sway, bridging the gap between a bygone era of courtly legend and the modern age of social networks and sports drinks. It is a testament to the enduring magic and allure of Bali's rich cultural heritage.
BALINESE MAGIC REMAINED rooted in the land until the mid-14th century, when a kingdom based in Java, the Majapahit, conquered the island and enforced Hindu orthodoxy and the strict caste system that came with it. A few isolated villages refused to accept the new regime and continued living in the old ways. They are called the Bali Aga, meaning “original Balinese.” From the jungles of West Bali I drive down a wide, shady highway, deliciously deserted compared with the jammed roads in Seminyak, to the island’s cool central highlands. My destination is a Bali Aga village called Trunyan. Continuously inhabited for over a millennium, Trunyan is a living connection to the world of Prince Jayaprana.
Situated on the eastern periphery of a serene, undulating lake that gracefully curves around the foothills of Mount Batur, an active volcano housing multiple craters, the village stands as a testament to Bali's enduring allure. As I ascend the western ridge and catch my initial glimpse of Batur, I am awe-struck by its flawless appearance, resembling a prizewinning science fair model volcano. Its gentle southern slope bears the markings of an eruption from 1968, evident in the black basaltic rock that intricately scars the landscape.
Embarking on the switchback road leading to Trunyan, my journey is accompanied by a tableau of lulling cows taking respite beneath majestic banyan trees, elderly women clad in straw hats meticulously tending to gardens of vibrant tomatoes and chilies, and tender clusters of purple shallots festooning the barn eaves. Upon my arrival in Trunyan, I am introduced to Nyoman, a genial, plump man in his forties, who evocatively immerses me in the village's enchanting ambience, momentarily abandoning a chess game to eagerly guide me around.
Trunyan, a village in Bali, is well-known for its ancient stone idol, believed to be over 1,100 years old, honoring the village's revered deity, Ratu Gede Pancering Jagat. While outsiders are forbidden from viewing the sculpture, there have been accounts of people who claimed to have seen it. Intrigued, I decide to try my luck and seek the assistance of Nyoman to accompany me on this journey.
We embark on a captivating exploration through the village's narrow alleys, passing by bustling family compounds where fishermen mend their nets in the shadows. Eventually, we reach a picturesque temple entrance adorned with intricately carved basalt, which grants us access to the temple grounds. Scattered across the lush greenery of the compound are several charming thatch-roofed pavilions, surrounding the towering temple that houses Ratu Gede Pancering Jagat, with its striking seven-tiered roof.
As we venture deeper into Trunyan's captivating history and spiritual significance, we discover a sanctuary that holds the secrets of its ancient past. It is humbling to witness the devotion and reverence the villagers have for Ratu Gede Pancering Jagat, and to be granted a glimpse into a world steeped in Bali's magical mystique.
The temple is padlocked. I blandly ask Nyoman who has the key. His silence is my answer: The Balinese hate to disappoint guests, but I can see in a moment that this is a line not to be crossed. Although I’m disappointed, I realize close contact with the great stone deity might have been even more of a letdown. Magic requires mystery to exert its power. I ask him to describe the statue. He hesitates nervously and finally mumbles, “It is man and woman in one.” That’s all he will say, except that the statue rises 13 feet tall, almost to the roof of the temple. A huge boulder guards the temple’s hobbit-size door. Nyoman says that the rock has a name, but he isn’t allowed to tell me what it is. It turns out that access to the temple is even more restricted than I thought. Nyoman says that no one is permitted to enter the temple except adolescent boys who perform a ritual dance as part of a full-moon festival. The coming-of-age rite for the boys doubles as preventive magic for the village.
As the sun sets, Nyoman gracefully guides me in his traditional canoe, known as a perahu, towards the local cemetery situated along the serene lakeshore. Unlike the conventional rows of stone grave markers, Trunyan's burial practices are distinct and captivating. Rather than being buried or cremated, the deceased are left exposed to the elements.
Amidst the tranquil atmosphere, I am intrigued to find two lifeless bodies serenely laid out under the protective embrace of bamboo fencing, shielded by the shade of an ancient sandalwood tree that has stood the test of time alongside the village. Witnessing the neatly arranged pile of cleaned bones and skulls at the tree's base, I am struck by the unity and connection that the community maintains even after death.
Surprisingly, my visit to the land of the dead evokes a sense of tranquility rather than horror. As Nyoman skilfully guides the canoe back to the village, gliding through the twilight's crimson-streaked canvas, I can't help but admire Trunyan for its preservation of ancestral remains, cultural integrity, and a profound cosmic sense of security.
Experience the captivating allure of Trunyan's unique burial ritual, where ancient traditions intertwine with the harmony of nature and the eternal cycle of life and death.
THE FINAL DESTINATION ON MY JOURNEY takes me south to Ubud, where my friend Tjokorda Raka Kerthyasa, head of the ancient court of Ubud, has invited me to attend the cremation of an elderly cousin of his. Ubud has been Bali’s most famous village since the island was “discovered” in the 1930s by the glamorous first wave of world travelers that included Charlie Chaplin, Noel Coward, Cole Porter, Margaret Mead (who shot a documentary film here), and the Mexican artist Miguel Covarrubias, who wrote an illustrated 1937 book called Island of Bali, which is still a reliable guide to Balinese culture.
Ubud, a place known for its royal court and impressive ceremonies, has managed to maintain its influence and importance even after the abolishment of Bali's feudal nobility in 1945. Despite the island's transformation into a republic, Ubud continues to exude the charm and grandeur it's renowned for. While Trunyan represents the ancient and primal side of Balinese magic, Ubud embodies the religious fervor in its most ornate and extravagant form.
One of the most awe-inspiring events here is the funeral rites of the royal family. In fact, the global attention and media coverage garnered by the multiple royal cremation ceremony conducted five years back positioned Ubud as a focal point of fascination and admiration worldwide.
The mood at the temple grounds is festive, as spirited as a New Orleans jazz funeral. Why not? The deceased lived a long life, blessed with a great progeny. I sit with Tjok Raka, eating fried noodles from a buffet. In addition to his aristocratic status in Ubud, Tjok Raka is also a member of Indonesia’s national parliament; no one knows more about the challenges the island faces now. Yet he remains serene. “Bali survives,” he says. “We’re performing our rituals, praying and meditating, trying to find wisdom, the balance between the real world and the intangible. Anyone can experience that balance, Westerners the same as Balinese.” He looks me in the eye and adds, “Now you are on the earth of Bali. Even if you leave, Bali will be under your skin.”
Tjok Raka hurries off to supervise the impending ceremony. I ask his son, sitting on my other side, what to expect. Tjok Gde, an accredited homeopathic practitioner, says that today’s event will be modest by comparison with other recent royal cremations—a development he very much approves of. “Every culture reaches a tipping point as it approaches decadence,” he says, “and Bali has reached that point. Prosperity from tourism has accelerated the trend toward bigger and more lavish spectacles, pushing rituals beyond what they were originally intended to be.”
Rain doesn’t dampen the spirits of villagers gathered for a ritual ceremony in Desa Tebuana.
Hundreds of people have gathered in the street around two large constructions. First is an eight-foot-tall black bull made of wood, with gilded horns and harness twinkling with fake gems, which will hold the coffin when it is burned; next is a nine-tiered tower, twice as tall as the bull, painted in scarlet and forest green, flapping with pennants inscribed with magic charms written in classical Balinese script. The white coffin is loaded into the base of the tower, a marching gamelan begins its bright clatter, and the procession lurches to life. The bull, with Tjok Gde sitting astride it, goes first, followed by the tower, carried by perhaps a hundred men. Tjok Raka stands at the base of the tower, wearing the red sash of mourning and banging a brass gong on his hip to encourage the carriers. The procession hurtles at a headlong pace toward the cremation grounds, nearly trampling tourists who are trying to get good photos.
Living in Bali, you become accustomed to the islanders’ clear-eyed, unsentimental acceptance of death. In Trunyan they do it by keeping thousand-year-old secrets, in Ubud they put on a fabulous public show; both are expressions of the indestructible core of magic that keeps the island whole.
As I drive back to Seminyak, descending once more into the coastal heat and heavy traffic, I feel hopeful. My friends in Bali worry about the impact of the tourist boom on the island’s social fabric and environmental resources, but I’ve seen now how the mystical thread that connects the modern island with its legendary past, delicate yet resilient as the filament of a spider’s web, is spinning into the future.