Arriving at the Balinese airport of Denspensar, we were greeted with a sea of smiling faces and hands waving cards with passengers’ names upon them. How would we find our guide amongst the horde of people before us? I need not have worried as he found us.

 

 

 

“Welcome to Bali, Land of the Gods, smiles and temples,” he said, his brown, crinkled face wreathed in a huge smile. “Oh, yes, many, many temples!” Driving away from the airport was like being in any other country until the driver of our car turned into the town where we were to spend our first night. The sight of cars, lorries and hundreds of scooters weaving an intricate dance on narrow roads informed me that this would be no ordinary trip. I closed my eyes and prayed that we would reach our hotel quickly and safely. Our guide laughed and said “I should have added scooters to my welcome. Do not fear, there are only a few accidents but they are not usually serious,” he declared then laughed loudly at the expression on my face.

 

 

 

Next morning we had to be ready very early to travel to Batubulan Village, site of the famous Barong Dance depicting the eternal struggle between good and evil. We were enthralled by the music played on tradition instruments by the old men of the village as well as by the elaborate costumes of the actors unravelling the age old story. At the end of the production, our guide I-Wayan explained that much of Bali’s Hindu religion is based on the Gods and magic. Then he asked a strange question: “What does the magic man in your country do? As I contemplated my answer, I realised we had embarked on a journey like no other on our travels around the globe.

 

 

 

Leaving Batubulan Village behind we headed North to the creative centres of Celuk and Ubad where the streets were lined with hand-made products of gold and silver as well as intricate wooden carvings, ready for eager tourists to buy. A short drive north of Celuk lies the mysterious World Heritage site of Goa Gajah or Elephant Cave dating from the 11th century. The entrance to the cave is ornately carved in the form of a demon’s mouth and has been used in the past by both Buddhists and Hindus as a place of sanctuary. The last stop of the day was to the flamboyant studio created by the artist Don Antonio Blanco who spent most of his life in the hilltop retreat presented to him by the King of Ubud. The building is magical in character and the architecture was influenced by his Spanish heritage.

 

 

 

The following morning saw us wandering through some terraced rice fields. I-Wayan explained how the rice was planted by hand just as it had been done over the centuries. We witnessed an old, old woman bending down to pick up a plant then placing it into the watery ground. It was evident from her posture that she had being doing that all her life as she seemed to find it difficult to straighten her body. In another field the harvest was being gathered in to be taken to an open space where the stalks were beaten by hand to loosen the rice seeds. The seeds were sieved, again by hand, before being placed into sacks. I could not help but wonder how in today’s world, modern technology had not reared its head.

 

 

 

As we exited the paddy fields, an old man approached and asked if we would like a fresh coconut from the tree above us. I imagined he had a basket load of them but he hitched up his cotton skirt, tucked a machete into his belt and proceeded to climb barefoot to the top of the palm tree. When he descended with the coconut, he pulled off the husk, made a small hole in the shell to drain the milky fluid into a wooden cup then with two cracks of the machete split the nut into four equal pieces. I looked at his weather worn face, his skin like leather, and knew this man had experienced a hard life but there was a twinkle in his eye and a peace and calm seemed to surround him. He was a man untouched by the pressures of the outside world.

 

 

 

Next stop on our journey was a visit to one of the most important temples in Bali – that of Tirta Empul or ‘Holy Spring’. This is where pilgrims come to purify themselves beneath the eleven water spouts of the bathing pool. Spouts twelve and thirteen are reserved for funerary rites. I-Wayan told me that he had been having bad dreams and that to dispel the images he would bring his whole family here on the night of the next full moon to bathe in the waters. He was confident that when he returned home his dreams would have disappeared.

 

 

 

Continuing north we experienced a complete change in the landscape with the appearance of the rugged, volcanic caldera of Mount Batur with its deep lake and bubbling hot springs. The end of our second day saw us retreat to another peaceful hotel in the town of Lovina. Here we were able to interact with the local people more readily as they plied their wares on the shores of black, volcanic beaches.

 

 

 

In contrast to the intricate carvings of the Hindu temples, day three found us experiencing the simplicity of a Buddhist monastery high on a hill top. A calm peaceful atmosphere of tranquillity surrounded us and it seemed as if we were a life time away from the frenzy of the cities where huge statues of the Gods adorn the streets dressed in silk and are protected from the rays of the sun by umbrellas.

 

 

 

Continuing south again we made time to visit the Ulun Danu Bratan temple built on the shores of idyllic Lake Batur. Viewed from a distance, it seems as if the tiered temple was floating on the lake.

 

 

 

Our last temple visit was to the most sacred temple in the land –set on an offshore rock and highly revered by the Hindu people it is known as Tanah Lot. We watched in awe as row after row of white clad Balinese made their pilgrimage across the bridge into the temple. As non-Balinese, we were not allowed to enter.

 

With the sun setting on this spectacular epic movie scene before us we were reluctant to leave but our tour was at an end. We eventually left the island feeling only respect for the friendly people we had met and vowing that one day we would return.

 

 

 

What a strange but exciting land Bali had turned out to be. With tales of its magic man, Hindu Gods and the fact that Balinese people name their children in the order they were born and the names are the same for both boys and girls. The first born child is called Wayan, Putu or Gede; the second Made or Kadek; the third child goes by Nyoman or Komang and the fourth child by Ketut.

This is one land that should make it on to everyone’s wish list of destinations to visit.