On November 18th 1981 I was in Tirtagangga in eastern Bali. I made an outing to the village of Tenganan, which was reputed to have customs that predate most village life on the island.
|The Water-Palace: My picture|
|Writing a book in Tenganan: My picture|
We walked back down the road into more normal Bali, past a place where a bough of a banyan had crashed through the roof of a house; the people there understandably had long faces, something unusual on the island. On either side of the valley were low unforested hills, terraced right up, but only for the grazing of cattle with little houses or byres near the top. At Bugbug we looked for food but only found a good "es" (ice mixed with anything), basically a jackfruit sundae, excellent.
Another day I walked up behind the water-palace and the temple through lanes to a wide trail-road to Budakeling, a large village with lots of temples and even a festival, but no Buddhist signs which I had expected from my Indonesian Handbook. Some people there file their teeth, but not as spectacular as I'd seen in Africa. Then I followed on up a hill behind to another village called Komala and enjoyed a long sit out of light rain where there was a shelter and a long talk with a gentleman from Karangasem. On beyond were rice-fields, more temples, a swathe of coconut palms and the slopes of Agong going up into the clouds; and a great feeling of peace. On the way back the rain really set in at Budakeling; I sat over tea in a warung, and came back by bemo.
More locally I walked and found some women weaving the sashes they wear in temples for festivals, really fine and tightly woven of a silky substance, which they make by a complicated process I didn't fully understand. Then I walked on paths and lanes, through shady fields with thatch houses and beautiful deer-like cows in little thatched byres, and over a little ridge to a lava river where there was a warung with beans and peanuts.