Text and photos by Fort Yerro
THE Balinese love to carve. They carve on stone, wood, clay, coral, practically anything they could lay their mallet and chisel on. And it`s not a tourism-driven endeavor either. It`s an expression of religious devotion. Hinduism and Buddhism have always been big on carving, and the two faiths have deep roots in Bali.
I found this out when I visited the fabled Indonesian island in November. Everywhere I turned there were altars, shrines and small temples whose gates, doors, windows, walls came alive with carvings. This obsession is carried over to the statues, masks and idols that teem in Bali.
Too bad I never really had the time to fully explore the island. I flew to Bali as a part-time tourist and full-time conference participant. I managed to squeeze in some shopping and sightseeing only on the afternoon after the conference ended.
Oriental Opulence
Melia Bali, the hotel I stayed in, had expensive written all over it. It`s in a sprawling enclave of about 50 hotels, all five-star, in the most fashionable corner of the island. My hotel flaunted the usual amenities: pristine stretch of beach, tranquil garden, bars and lounges, pools, sport facilities. But for me the most impressive feature was the spacious lobby dominated by a high ceiling decorated with a fresco depicting animals, people and deities from Balinese lore.
I admit I am not used to these trappings of opulence. I might even say I`m intimidated by them. But as long as somebody else is paying, I ain`t complaining.
Right after the two-day conference, the Philippine contingent—three female journalists and myself—formed ourselves into a shopping posse. We headed out to Kuta, one of the more popular tourist haunts, in a taxi driven by Wayan. (Wayan seems to be a common name in Bali; the cabbie that took us to the airport the following morning was also named Wayan. I found out later that the Balinese traditionally name their first-born boy Wayan.) Wayan drove a meterless taxi, one that would have been pulled over as a colorum in Metro Manila.
We tried to strike a banter with our driver, but his English was halting at best. We gathered though that he didn`t think highly of the governor of Bali, and cast aspersions on his honesty. (The other Wayan also had a beef against government officials.)
One Big Tiangge
Kuta is a place that lives and breathes tourism. Shops, restaurants, hotels, spas line the narrow streets. Stores dedicated to Prada, Vuitton, St. Michael`s and Nike stand shoulder to shoulder with cubbyhole stalls that peddle sarongs, filigrees, native musical instruments, hats, beads and souvenir T-shirts. The place is one big tiangge.
As in tiangges like Divisoria and Greenhills, haggling is the norm in Kuta. And like most men, I`m a terrible haggler. Women are born to bargain. That`s where my companions came in handy.
I had $150 changed to rupiahs. That came up to a little more than 1,300,000 rupiahs. I soon realized that I was stuck with more rupiahs than I could spend in the little time we had to shop. We were looking for trinkets, not big-ticket items. I had to buy back dollars at the airport moneychanger just before our flight out.
Wayan dropped us at a cluster of shops that specialized in souvenir T-shirts, bags, shorts, merchandise that you hand out to kith and kin back home. We decided to walk around first and check out other stuff.
A typical street in Kuta is laid out like this: store, store, temple, store, store, store, temple, food stall, store, temple, moneychanger, store, store, temple.
That gives you an idea of how in this section of Bali, commerce and religion blend seamlessly.
We sought out an old market where there was supposed to be a wide choice of carvings and other curios. It took us a while to locate it and when we finally did the place had already closed for the day. Major disappointment. I had hoped to pick up a pair of wayang kulit, the Balinese shadow puppets, to enhance my paltry mask collection.
Because of time constraints, our shopping posse ended up with slim pickings—some trinkets, an inexpensive mask, sarongs, sweets and the de rigeur T-shirts. I made a mental note to buy chocolates at Singapore`s Changi Airport during the stopover to add to my stash of handouts.
Kuta By Night
Sunset found us walking along Kuta`s famed beach. I`m sure the scene was tourist-perfect by day, but I`ve had more memorable nocturnal strolls in Anilao, Batangas. Anilao, however, didn`t have the neon signs of McDonalds, Starbucks, Hard Rock Café and other icons of Western commerce lighting up the nightscape.
A noteworthy thing: I had the strange feeling we were the only Filipinos in Kuta at that particular moment. (Wayan the cabbie was clueless about the Philippines.) I doubt if there were Pinoys in that multitude of Europeans, Australians, Japanese, Koreans and Singaporeans who were holidaying in Bali.
What about Filipino musicians? I had encountered Pinoy bands in Penang, Malaysia`s island resort, and Busan, South Korea`s southernmost port city. No such luck in Bali. The crooner at our hotel was definitely not a Pinay. So was the singer at the Kuta diner where we ended up after our uneventful stroll.
Balinese music, like the carvings, is everywhere. It`s piped into your hotel room, played on the taxi`s radio. It wafts from an unseen source around the street corner. You hear it live from the gamelan ensemble in the hotel lobby. Ears that have long been plugged into heavy metal or hip-hop might not easily latch on to the rich, percussive beat of gong and xylophone. Yet I found the rhythm slipping effortlessly into my consciousness, producing a soothing, even hypnotic effect.
Kuta afterdark was just beginning to come alive, but we needed time to pack our booty, so we caught a taxi back to the hotel.
I came away with the impression that Bali—the part I saw anyway—has kept its tropical-island charm because it has remained true to itself. The bombings of 2003 and 2005 may have deeply scarred the land and the people, stripped Bali of its innocence, but its spirit is intact. It lives on in its art, its music, its religion.
The ancient Balinese called their place the Island of the Gods. They believed their island is enchanted. It`s true. Bali definitely worked its magic on me.
Source: www.manilanews.net (15 April 2007)
