HOME TRUTHS: Take It Home: Bali, Indonesia

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On the agenda for day six of my trip is a car jaunt (with driver Ma-de) through the mountainous region of Bali and a visit to Bedugul and its lakeside temple, Ulundanu. Along the way are villages devoted to growing fruits and vegetables and crafting temple components and colorful ceremonial umbrellas that evoke the garb of Hindu gods. This is wide-open country—a welcome respite from the packed streets of Seminyak and Ubud.

Curbside produce stands proffer the bounty of roadside fields that stretch as far as the eye can see—mangosteens, strawberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, corn, and cauliflower. No home in these parts is without a front-yard temple, and each of these is shockingly elaborate given the simple construction of most of the abodes, which are small and built of concrete blocks or brick.

Soon we begin the steep and winding climb to Bedugul—the views of the surrounding valleys are breathtaking. We roll down the windows and breathe deeply of air blessedly free of diesel fumes and oppressive humidity. When we reach the lush temple grounds, I spot several couples in full wedding regalia posing for photographs—though the temperatures are cooler here than by the beach, it's still quite hot, and I can't figure out how the makeup isn't melting off the brides' faces.

As I walk this special site, I hear Islamic calls to prayer resounding in the distance; once back in Ma-de’s car, I learn there is a large mosque across the road. Though Bedugul does have a Muslim population, there are very few members of this faith in Bali overall. Next stop, at my request, is the bustling local vegetable market—the launching pad for the nation’s food chain: The produce travels from market to market getting successively more expensive with each move. Though I again have to put up with aggressive sellers—this time they push me to buy small packets of spices—sights of beautifully mounded produce and women balancing food-filled baskets atop their heads (how do they do that?!) lure me into the fray.

After a quick walk through, we're off to see the hillside rice farms. The thin winding roads around here are lined in vegetation so thick and tropical they could easily be mistaken for a rain forest—I identify bamboo, banana, coffee, cocoa bean, and coconut trees. As we wend our way through Jrtelueh's spectacular, terraced rice fields, Ma-de stops to pluck some stalks and give me an education in the various types of rice that are cultivated here. In nearby Tabanan, we pass through a wood-cutting area adjacent to cornfields. The villagers around here all have metal-roofed rice-storage bins next to their homes. It occurs to me that what I am now seeing is the authentic, traditional Bali—Bali minus Western influences.

Wanasari and a visit to a butterfly farm are next. I learn about and witness the life cycle of grasshoppers and butterflies—there are hundreds of species housed here that live anywhere from five days to three weeks and begin mating eight hours after birth (there's no time to waste). We hit the road again when it begins raining; this time our destination is a seaside temple—Tanah Lot. One part of it rises from the ocean; the other nestles amid the crashing waves, filling with water during high tide. The long walk to the temple presents numerous opportunities for more hawkers to "pummel" me, but by now I've become adept at turning a cold shoulder. Perched above the ocean on a stone cliff that's been etched by roiling wind and water for eons, the upper part of the temple cuts an impressive figure. While I'm there, the high tide rolls in, engulfing the rocky base. I take that as my cue to return to Desa Seni for a quiet evening of reading on the porch.

Aesthetic sensibilities in Bali are expressed in the elaborate temple structures, in the batik sarongs worn there, in the baskets of offerings, in the carved windows and doors, and in the terraced rice fields. They are also manifest in the costumes worn by the dancers in the performance I attend in the evening—my last in Bali—at Uluwatu temple, located about an hour from the resort.

A long, stepped path snakes up the cliff where Uluwatu temple sits, overlooking the ocean. After the climb—monkeys are perched along the stone railing that leads upward—I walk over to the amphitheater and take a seat on the top bleacher (this will be a fire dance). From here, I know I’ll get a clear view of a spectacular sunset over the water. Below, attendants place a giant candelabrum with long wicks jutting out of the arms in the center of the stage. As the sun sinks, 70 bare-chested men emerge from behind the encircling wall and begin the mesmerizing cak chant and minimalist movements that launch the Kecak dance, which enacts the tale of a beautiful princess who is kidnapped by an evil king and then, after much trickery and battling, is freed by her mate. The male and female dancers’ costumes, jewelry, and makeup are elaborate, and the hourlong performance is captivating in all its strangeness—there are no instruments, just an entrancing blend of male voices. The dance ends with the protagonist prince hopping barefoot through a fiery ring of coconut hair and kicking glowing embers into the air.

After the performance, Ma-de drops me off at a seafood restaurant near Denpasar with tables set into the sand, just beyond the breaking waves. Other dimly lit restaurants line this stretch of beach near the airport—not only can you people-watch here (the mix is motley indeed) but you can also watch the twinkling lights of airplanes landing and listen to a roving Indonesian band serenading guests with Elvis, Roy Orbison, and Eagles covers—I’m gripped! Ordering involves selecting a fish from a huge bin filled with the day’s catch. I point to a plump red snapper, which is filleted and grilled over a long open-air charcoal-filled brazier. My fish is served with a crisp, stalky green vegetable that tastes a bit like green beans, rice (of course), and various spicy condiments, which I lavish over everything. I wash my food down with a small bottle of Indonesian beer and chase the spice with a few thin slices of watermelon and pineapple—a fitting end to an utterly delicious meal and trip!— Room Whisperer

See our slideshow for more photos of Donna's trip to Bali

Donna Sapolin
Home VP/Editor-in-Chief
aka Room Whisperer