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From Ubud I went to the airport and flew out to Irian Jaya. That's another story. When I got back I went to Tanah Lot on the western side of Bali.
I hailed a cab at the airport and took off to Tanah Lot. On the way we passed through the tourist "resort" called Kuta Beach. Kuta was attacked by a car bomb about a month after I went through. The big attraction at Tanah Lot is the sea temple and the place is absolutely packed at sunset. The sun going down behind the temple would be a sublime image, indeed, were it not for the restoration project that's ongoing. It seems that the government has hired a marine contractor to shore up the temple so that erosion doesn't carry it away like a sandcastle. There is a monster crane, out on a temporary pier, that is placing blocks into the sea to act as a breakwater. While the temple is beautiful its setting during restoration is butt-ugly.
I met my buddy Ketut as I as sipping an ice-cold Bintang beer at an outdoor resturant overlooking the temple. I had staked out a nice table to watch the sunset, and Ketut is a waiter there. I guess things are kind of slow with the tourist trade, so Ketut pulled up a chair and we hung out for a while. He told me that there was a funeral scheduled for the next day. I had been told that funerals on Bali were not to be missed, so I decided to check it out.
The next day I hailed a bemo and took off to the village that was hosting the funeral. A bemo, by the way, is a minivan that provides semi-public transportation. Bali's covered with them. The driver wanted 10,000 rupias for the trip, which is about a US dollar. I laughed and told him it was too much. Ketut had told me the fare was RP1,000. When I got out I gave the guy RP2,000 because I'm a big spender. Twenty cents. Easy come, easy go.
The guest of honor, meaning the dead guy who's funeral it was, must have been a big-shot. There were two gamelan orchestras and two big "floats", for lack of a better term. The floats were like we'd have for a parade in the USA, except that they were hand-carried by the pallbearers. One float looked like a temple tower. It was a sort of a pagoda-looking affair. The other was an ornate black bull. There were at least a hundred people marching in the parade with the floats. The orchestras broke down their instruments into a marching band configuration and came along. There were two groups of women who were in matching outfits. Interestingly, the pallbearers had t-shirts with the logo of the local bank on them. It looked like the bank was sponsoring the funeral, the way a softball team would have a sponsor here in the USA.
The remains of the deceased are being loaded into the pagoda in the background.
Note the sponsor's logo in the t-shirts.
There were a few ceremonies performed while the floats were in the street, then the floats were hoisted up by the pallbearers and carried through the streets to the graveyard. The graveyard is next to the local school, right behind the soccer goal. Miss the goal, hit a grave. More ceremonies. The body, wrapped in white cloth, was carried up into the top of the tower then carried back down and placed into the bull. A scaffold was errected around the bull and a group or people climbed up and prepared the body for the next world. There was a little altar set up nearby, and offerings were placed there. Incense, food and flowers were all part of the act. Two ladies brought up a duck and a chicken. I thought that the birds would be sacrificed, but the ladies just held the birds and plucked off a few feathers while they chanted some incantations. People went through the crowd handing out bottled water and food. The entire process is a big production.
Eventually, the body was buried and the party broke up. I'm told that bodies are usually cremated on Bali, but in this village they bury them out behind the soccer field. My buddy Ketut was a pallbearer and when the funeral was over he offered me a lift back to the hotel on his scooter.
On the way back we stopped by a river where funeral offerings were being made by tossing them into the river. There were a bunch of guys from the funeral who were out in the water, diving after the coins as they sank. Nobody seemed to care. I guess that once the offering is made it's free game. Then we got back onto the scooter and went to Ketut's house so he could change into his work clothes.
Ketut lives in a traditional Balinese compound with his mom and dad, wife and kid, and his brother's family. There are a few dwellings and some utility buildings surrounded by a stone wall. There's also a family temple, of course. I hung out for a while with Ketut and his wife, who is also named Ketut, and their daughter Wayan. The Balinese call their firstborn "Wayan". The fourth child is "Ketut". Both Ketut and Mrs. Ketut are the fourth children born to their respective parents, which is why they're both called Ketut. If a family has a lot of kids they start recycling the names after they run out, so it's not uncommon to have two kids in the same family called "Wayan", or what have you. I have no idea how they keep it straight.
Little Wayan reminds me of my niece, Erin. Wayan is younger, but she's like Erin because she's a little scamp with no hint of shyness, even around a strange foreigner. Ketut confided that he and Mrs. Ketut are under pressure to provide a son and heir. If not, they have to move out of the family compound.
Every night these little guys would roost above my doorway.
After a while, We hopped back on the scooter and headed out to the hotel. Ketut wasn't due at work for a while, so he cruised back home. I washed up and went out to grab a bite to eat. There was a resturant with T-bone steaks on the menu for RP40,000, which is under US$5, and after eating Indonesian food for a couple of weeks I was ready for a slab-o-meat. But, tragically, the steaks were sold out, so I had the fried chicken and a Bintang. Then I legged it down to the seaside to watch the sunset.
The family was there, Mr. and Mrs. Ketut and the irascible Wayan. We all had a good time eating what I believe was fried tapioca chips and swilling Bintang beer. After the sunset the other seaside resturants closed up but we hung out a while. As darkness fell, I bid them farewell and hiked up to the hotel. Ketut was officially working and I figured he needed to get things closed up and head home. He'd been a good freind and I'll write him before my next trip to Bali.
Later that night, I made my way back to the airport and headed to Guam on the redeye flight. I'd touch down on Guam and fly out to Chuuk from there. I'd spend a couple of weeks in Chuuk with friends, diving and goofing off. So far, my sabbatical was turning out great.
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