CORRESPONDENTS: Bali is the 'cherry on top' years ago
By JESSICA GILBERT
Ramona correspondent
(785) 965-2621
It didn't seem I'd been gone all that long in Bali — just long enough to forget what month it was, and to settle into the delicious sensation of "just being," rather than "doing."
Spending January and part of February in Indonesia was a great way to "winter!" I lived in a sarong, had a massage every day — on the beach with waves crashing just a few feet away — and drank in the sun.
What made this trip possible was my Oregon friend, Jill Cannefax, who recently built a villa on the beach in Bali, and my mother, even though she's been gone more than a year — I had some funds from Mom tucked away in anticipation of this spiritual journey.
Jill's villa is part of a gorgeous new resort called Amertha Bali Villas — 28 gorgeous villas, all owned by individuals from around the world. Since January is still part of the rainy season in Bali, and therefore not the peak tourist season, many owners choose this time of the year to visit.
Most of the owners like to eat in the restaurant there, rather than cook in their own place. The first person to arrive at the outdoor restaurant would get the largest table and then as others came, they'd join the party. By dessert there would be people from the United States, Australia, Germany, England, France, all sharing stories and a bottle of wine.
One night a young doctor from Katmandu joined us — he was from Michigan originally, but now chooses to practice medicine in various places around the world.
The Balinese believe that Bali is the closest place on earth to heaven. My friend Jill always says that the gods listen more closely in Bali, so if you need or want something, just ask, then sit back and watch what happens.
"I'm always amazed when I come to Bali," said Jill, "because whatever I need I receive, and more. It just seems the gods always add a little something special — like a cherry on top!" she said, laughing with delight.
About mid-way through the trip I was just hankering for a piece of French bread and cheese. In Bali, they don't do cheese, and as for French bread, it can only be found in the big cities a few hours away. (And when I can find it, it may look like French bread, but it has the taste and consistency of regular white bread.)
While Jill's villa was in a resort, these resorts are situated among Balinese villages, so there are no supermarkets or Seven-Elevens — there's only the little one-room market used by the villagers, and they don't do bread, cheese, crackers, or any snacks that you'd find at home. So I teased Jill and said that if I was going to have cheese, French bread, or even a Wasa cracker, it would truly have to be a gift from the gods.
The following day Jill and I took a trek and when we returned, there on the kitchen table was a small treasure: Wasa rye crackers, three kinds of exotic cheeses, some fancy mineral water, and chocolate bars with nuts — that was the "cherry on top!" With it was a note from some Australian friends we'd met. "Here are some things we had left over — thought you might like them." I felt like I'd won the lottery!
I discovered later that when our Aussie friends had arrived in Bali, they immediately went shopping at the large (and very expensive) import bazaar in Denpensar, where all kinds of foods from everywhere in the world are sold.
As I devoured cheese and crackers, sipped some Balinese wine, and read my engrossing novel, I said to Jill. "The only thing missing now is a juicy apple to go with these fine cheeses!"
Now in Bali, they don't grow apples — they are famous for bananas, pineapple, papaya, mango, and some amazing tropical fruits that I can't even spell. But not apples. So the next day, you can imagine my surprise, when I went for my massage and my masseuse, Cadek, who lives in the nearby village, handed me a small bag. "Here," she said. "I brought you a gift of some fruit." When I opened the bag there were shiny red and golden delicious apples, along with two Asian pears — another "cherry on top!"
When Jill saw what I had she smiled. "You just received a most precious gift!" she said. Apples are imported to Bali, and therefore very expensive, especially for the villagers. They only buy such expensive things for the towering temple displays the women create as offerings to their deities.
During our stay the Balinese observed several big temple celebrations, and so we donned our temple garments (sarongs and blouses made of exquisite silks in purples, magenta, gold) and attended their spiritual services. Their temples are all open air, rather than enclosed like our churches, and services are rather brief — lasting 30 minutes at most.
A sampling of one's food is taken in a basket and presented for blessing at the temple, and flowers and incense are a big part of the ritual. Incense burns in front of everyone and flowers (different colors for different prayers) are held between the hands in prayer position, in front of the forehead.
Every temple is built to a different god or goddess. There are temples for those working in commerce and banking, temples for farmers, temples for the people working in government. And each temple has a certain flavor. One of my favorites is the monkey temple — it does have a formal name, but monkey temple is what I'll always call it because monkeys are everywhere — including in the temple. As a foreigner, I may not be able to understand the prayers in Balinese, but the antics of monkeys are understood by everybody!
There are staff people at the temple who walk around with a big stick — their sole purpose is to keep the hundreds of monkeys at bay while folks pray. These monkeys are quite aggressive and can snatch your shoes (people sit on their shoes in temple — it softens the ground or concrete), or they'll grab your purse or water bottle.
One clever monkey grabbed a worshipper's stash of offerings and flowers. He jumped to a high ledge, dumped the bag unceremoniously, covering himself with red, blue, and gold flower petals, and then screeched with delight when he discovered a rope of licorice in the bag. It was covered in plastic, but that was quickly stripped off, and then bedlam erupted as a dozen young monkeys tried to steal his sweet loot.
Our friend and guide, Prana, was sitting beside me during the temple prayers as the monkeys carried on, right along with the priest's sacred prayers. A male and female were lounging on one of the many pagoda altars high above us. The male was thoroughly enjoying being groomed by his mate, who was intensely focusing on his rather long tail. "His wife is giving him a spa treatment," joked Prana. (That's another thing I enjoy about Bali temple services: serious one minute, jokes and laughter the next. It's all sacred to them.)
After a month in paradise, Jill and I reluctantly packed our bags. When we went to the front desk to pay for our food expenses and massages, we received a surprise. Jill's a professional photographer and I'm a writer, so during our stay we took a little time to take pictures and write some text, which the resort manager could use on their website. When we came to settle our account, we were told that the owner and founder of the resort had instructed them to remove all charges for food and drink from our bill — just another "cherry on top!"
