CLEONE In Bali - Temples and Tourists
Or Holidays and Hinduism - and litter and rice, too.
There are more temples per square kilometer in Bali than anywhere else I
have been, and that includes Kathmandu. Each house has at least one, with
several separate shrines, the number and magnificence of which depending on the
age and means of the family. Each business or enterprise has a temple,
each village has at least three and then there are the city and national temples
as well.
Since the tourist-based economy all but collapsed after the Bali
Bomb in October 2002, you would have thought that temple and shrine building
might have also taken a down-turn. You would be wrong. Tourism is
making a big resurgence, and most of the three-and-a-half million people are, in
some way or another (and I will come back to that in a minute) either supporting
this tourist trade or they are manning shops and businesses everywhere that sell
ready-made shrines, install-it-yourself effigies (with Ganesh (the elephant god)
or Hanuman (the monkey god) well to the fore).and contractors busy at work
constructing yet more temples and shrines or refurbishing old ones.
The
tourists, of course, who are now almost as many (if not more) Japanese than
Australians, visit these shrines in their droves, and outside every shrine, and
every scenic waterfall or viewpoint are endless stores and pedlars (some very
small children) selling those things that tourists cannot do without.
These wares include saris and sarongs, beautifully or crudely carved statues,
stones, shells, kites, combs, cosmetics (mostly fake), furniture, umbrellas
crude, colourful and sometimes beautiful paintings and who knows what else
besides. How they all make a living out of this I do not know, because
very few things seem to get sold.
The rest of the population work in more
closely identifiable occupations, staffing hotels and restaurants, driving
buses, taxis, and water-ski boats, running diving shops, guarding
beaches and providing all the other domestic and pleasure-seeking services
that tourists require. The other big impressions included the paddy fields, sometimes
reasonably big, but more often sandwiched between houses or sited on terraces
marching up the hillsides like giant staircases with very wide and very big
treads.
Bali is the most crowded island in Indonesia, and is 90% Hindu, in
contrast to most everywhere else which is about 90% Moslem. Amongst the
temples and buildings (none over 15 metres in height by law) the Balinese live
and work, dividing their time between cultivating rice and building and
constructing, carving wood, mending motorbikes (said to number at least as many
as the population), doing their laundry in the streams and rivers and suckling
their children, who are always an integral part of any business or
institution.
The people are cheeful, happy, outstandingly
friendly and welcoming, even if they do pester visitors all the time to
buy, buy, buy. They speak excellent English, and I have heard fluent
German, French and some Russian, besides Japanese as well. Every
job occupies at least five people where western economies would only find
work for one, so whilst unemployment is technically low, the net income
from tourist-related enterprises is shared thinly around. Then there
is the litter. This beautiful, fertile country is a mass of discarded
plastic bags which blow around everywhere. Nobody seems to care about this
frightful eyesore, which also pollutes the rivers, harbours and
sea-shores.
For Cleone and many other of the fleet's crew, the big event was the Norfy
Tour. Twenty of us set off for three days of sightseeing and two days of
pampering in the wide-open space of a hotel. The first day was a day trip,
enabling us to get back for the reception at the Royal Bali Yacht Club. An
interesting coach tour to a temple and a silver factory enabled us to get back
in time to re-board the coach to wind our way to the RBYC (Royal, you ask?
Yes, apparently there are plenty of Kings and Queens (no, Robert, not that sort)
in Indonesia, and Bali itself boasts three or four of its own).
The
members of the RBYC turned out in force, and they seemed stunned by the
number of us, but coped manfully, providing us with a delicious meal, a little
taste of Balinese dancing (only two small girls, but dancing in authentic
costume to canned but authentic music). An antiquated and very complicated
system of drinks tickets left us in the amazing position that meant that,
before the end of the evening, there was still beer but you could not buy it
because the beer tickets had run out! Remarkable.
The next day we
struggled to set off early. We just made the start of the delightful
Balinese play or ballet put on for the benefit of tourists in a
theatre-cum-temple an hours drive from the Marina. It was a complicated
story of thwarted gods and bad witches. But the music and dancing were
fascinating, and the meaning of the actors was quite clear from their
expressions and mime, even if we could not understand the words. It was
excellent.
Then it was a whirl-wind of temples (beautiful, but marred by
not all being kept clean and sometimes too many other tourists), and shopping
opportunities, with other sights to se thrown in amongst them. We visited
the Monkey Temple, and the biggest and most important temple in Bali with its
own holy spring, overlooked (conveniently for him) by the President's Bali
Palace. We were all tired by the time we reached our hotel, and not
expecting much. So we all planned to meet in the nearest town for
dinner. But once we got to our hotel, our intentions to move anywhere else
vanished. It was quite the most beautiful, luxurious and well-run hotel
that any of us had ever been to. Looking out over a jungle laid valley,
each "appartment" had two bedrooms, with three showers per bedroom (why
three? why not four or two?) and a private swimming pool, smaller than but
much more exclusive than the large pool outside the dining room.
We all
stayed in, eating a four-star meal and drinking in the four-star bar, with
attendant four-star prices, before retiring to our four-star beds and awiting
our four-star Room Service Breakfast! And if you're interested to see what
it was really like and to convince yourselves that I am not kidding you, see
www.puriwulandari.net . Rosie and
others will be glad to know that we did
not pay the list price for our
rooms!
We were sad to move on, but other temples beckoned, together with a
waterfall and a view of Bali's second volcano. That evening, our sea-side
hotel was perfectly adequate, but shabby in contrast to the previous
night. But we again had great fun; a communal dinner table followed by a
bit of dancing (for those that like this amusement) to the house band, and then
a few drinks at a nearby bar. The two al-fresco canoeists will remain
anonymous, as will the disorientated Navigator who welcomed a helping hand to
see him (or her) home!
Then it was back to the Bali Marina for our farewell party and
prize-giving. This was followed by a long day's work on Cleone, during
which the Skipper refused help (not that it was keenly offered) whilst he
dismantled the heads (lavatory) and cleaned out all the pipes. They were
full of s (no you cant write that - Ed) and other things, but the heads now pump
so sweetly not that they will be a real pleasure to use (not that they were not
before - Ed). And today, in readiness for our departure this afternoon,
the Skipper has changed the alternator belts, taken down all the flags and
generally got Cleone ready whilst Chris and Alex tackled the Skipper's bete
noir, the victualling (shopping, to you land-lubbers).
So here we are, no longer dressed up but ready to go. And we have
just been told that we cannot leave because Customs have not cleared us to do
so. What are they playing at? We have no money left, our visas
expire at midnight (after which we become illegal immigrants and subject to a
large fine or imprisonment), and moreover, we will be late for the reception at
Cocos Keeling. What a cake and ar (no, you cant use that word either - Ed)
party. Oh well, another night merrymaking (using what for money -
Ed)at the hospitable and comfortable Marina Bar, I imagine. I will let you
know what transpires.
All well, and best wishes to you all.
James, Chris and Alex
Cleone
Bali Marina