Heading For The Hills
With only a couple of days left on this beautiful island, we still had a few things we were yet to tick off on our Bali Bucket Lists. We’d heard about a bike tour you could do up on the volcano, cycling down through local villages with a guide. It sounded fantastic. Miss Indonesia took it upon herself to do all the research for us and like our personal genie, granted our wish by booking our tour and getting everything sorted for us.
Keryn, still recovering from a painful bout of shingles and Ann-Maree had decided they would pass, on the rigours of a two hour bike ride, opting instead to have a quiet day to relax at the villa by the pool, perhaps fitting in a massage or two and staying local. So it was only Amanda, Claire, Suzie and I that were required to set our alarms last night for our crack of dawn departure.
Miraculously we were all up and dressed by the time our driver arrived for us, even managing time for a quick brekky. We’d booked Wayan to be our driver today but he had sent his older brother Kedek in his place who, when questioned regarding the whereabouts of his younger sibling, reported that Wayan was “head sick”. Amanda, being the seasoned Indonesia-savvy skeptic suggested that Wayan probably just had another job and had sent his brother so they could do both jobs. Who knows? Kedek did have a different driving style to Wayan, more than once causing me – unfortunate enough to be seated in the front seat for an uninterrupted view – to spontaneously gasp, grab the handle tightly and adopt crash position! The 55 point turn he’d done in order to merely get out of our driveway when he’d first arrived was a bit of an indication of what we’d be in for, leaving us a tad wary about his driving skills.
Nevertheless, we managed to make it in one piece and were delivered up through Ubud to the north, passing through gorgeous mountain vistas, witnessing daily village scenes as we ascended towards Mount Batur, also known as Kintamani, the dormant volcano. Looking out over the vast lake of black lava we were educated by “Peter” about the lava having been deposited when there was a large eruption back in 1963. He told us the last eruption had been in 1999/2000 and pointed out from our cliff-top vantage point, where his house was nestled down below. Peter oozed such confidence and spoke with such authority, we assumed wrongly he was our tour guide. It turns out he was just trying to sell us some of his “lava sand” artworks, which were really quite hideous.
Arriving at our starting point, met by the bike-carrying truck, we were issued with our bikes, had our helmets fitted and met our real guides “Marty” and “Ecca”. It was noticeably cooler up the mountain and we were celebrating the absence of humidity in the air. Almost as soon as we began peddling we were charmed by the beauty and history of the ancient mountain village we were approaching. Marty showed us the hanging coconuts dangling from branches and housing the newborn placentas of the latest crop of newborns in the village and intrigued us with the courting rituals, unchanged for centuries, of the villagers in that place. Groups of prospective partners were to run towards one another in the dark, tagging a prospect who would then be required to wed them in a midnight ceremony also in pitch darkness. He laughed as he told us “you might get a beautiful wife or you may get an ugly one, but you are stuck!” He then went on to say that in the rest of Bali, most people marry “by accident”, meaning an unexpected baby is on the way!
There was a temple in each village we rode through and preparations were being made for a special festival that was to take place shortly. Mopeds were snaking through the bends carrying gargantuan loads of elephant grass and other produce – like tiny ants carrying too-large crumbs – their proportions looking impossible. Women and men also carried monstrous loads on their heads effortlessly as they strode on towards the temple. We wondered why this practice hasn’t caught on in western culture. It would certainly improve posture and carry on all that early Romper Room training “…eyes ahead and don’t look down, keep that basket off the ground…” It leaves your hands free too! The Balinese may only be small in stature but they are strong!
The ride was mostly downhill and pleasantly non-strenuous and luckily none of us were arachnophobes. The “Spider Tree” was choc-a-block with golden orb spiders which the brave Claire and Suzanne (with some encouragement from Ecca) allowed to wander up and down their arms! Amanda and I were merely happy to provide an audience.
The thing we loved the most about this experience was just being able to see the villagers going about their daily business. Women pulled cabbage leaves from a mountain of cabbages, kids giggled on tricycles, young boys wobbled as they took their first rides on mopeds, temple carvers chipped intricate designs into concrete blocks, cows mooed in fields of waving green. All the while the soundtrack in my head was Sting’s song “Fields Of Gold”. I’d always thought the lyrics were: “on the fields of Bali” but Suzie helpfully informed me it was actually referring to fields of BARLEY. Oops! In the same way that Space Invaders will always remind me of baked potatoes, I’ll always associate that song with Bali!
At one temple we saw the Balinese village’s version of Mr Whippy. A man stood with his big wheeled cart, drawing a huge crowd of eager, sweet-toothed customers – the young and the very old. He was putting ice cream in little paper bags and topping them with a generous squirt of chocolate and chopped nuts, the recipients tucking in enthusiastically. Some things are universal.
One of the highlights of our ride was being privileged enough to actually enter the home of a village family. Feeling a bit like we were imposing, Marty and Ecca assured us the villagers welcomed their visitors, actually offended if their compound is not chosen as a stop. They were so hospitable and we were introduced to 3 generations of one family and shown through their compound, which would house up to three or four families, their temple, market garden and common area. With its primitive wood fire hearth, dusty smoky shelves and battered pots and pans, it was certainly a long way from the pages of House and Garden, though perfectly functional and adequate for all they needed. It made us all feel guilty for the priority we place on the unimportant. Suzanne and Claire were set to pack up their families and embrace the simple life (though Suzie would need to set up a large generator to power the Thermomix). It was a good reminder of the traps of materialism and the lie that it’s “things” that will make us happy. These beautiful, gentle, hospitable village people with their simplistic existence and hard work looked contented and happy as they greeted us grinning their often toothless grins.
Since we’ve been here, Claire has been plagued by the nagging question of exactly how rice is harvested. We have seen people out in the paddies pulling up the bunches of green, never actually sure of where the grains come from. So it was with great relief that we had our own little tutorial today, complete with concrete examples, explaining exactly how it’s done and allowing Claire to now get some sleep at night. The green bunches are laid down on big rectangular tarps and placed all along the roadside to take advantage of the sun’s rays, dried out and then put through a machine to remove the husks. There is only one machine in this whole mountainous region, owned by one enterprising and busy family who process all the rice in the area and conveniently allow flexibility of payment methods – no electronic payment here though. It’s either rice or rupiah! Wish I could pay my weekly Woolies bill in rice!
Coming down the mountain, though sad to be leaving the tranquility of village life, we were treated to a delicious buffet lunch in the elephant sanctuary, where we got to know our cycling buddy, Linda, from Colorado. The elephants were beautiful, especially the baby, and we all felt them looking straight at us through their warm brown eyes. Unfortunately, we got carried away at lunch – Amanda swapping diving adventure stories with Linda – and by the time we made our way down to the elephant show included in our ticket, it was over! Oh well. From the basketball, soccer ball, painting on an easel and water trough in the enclosure we concluded the elephant probably shot a couple of hoops, kicked a goal, painted a picture and cooled the audience down. We didn’t miss much really.
The two hour drive back to civilisation was actually an ordeal to endure with Kedek’s incessant hypnotic, panpipe oriental elevator music droning in our ears the entire time. Suzie started singing along to try to make light of a stressful situation! We couldn’t exit that vehicle soon enough! Getting back, it was great to be reunited with Ann-Maree and Keryn who were freshly massaged and blow-dried and definitely more relaxed than we were after the panpipes trauma.
Tonight, Amanda’s last night with us, was an extra special one and we dined at the highly acclaimed Koo De Ta restaurant on the beach at Seminyak. The sun set over the beach while we sipped cold drinks and squinted to read the menu in the trendy ambient light, pulsing dance beats in the background. At one stage we were even offered an itty bitty book light to assist us, (the optically challenged of us anyway), to decipher the mains from the entrees.
The food and company were above average and we were even visited by a talented magician who absolutely wowed us with his extraordinary card tricks! Even the astute Miss Indonesia couldn’t work out how he did it and we clapped each trick, astonished by his masterful sleight of hand. Even more astonishing was his immediate disappearance at the end, with not even a hint he was after a tip. How refreshing!
We were all heavy-hearted to have to farewell our fearless Team Leader. We hugged and said our goodbyes, making an archway for her to run through. We are going to miss you Miss Indonesia!
