We were picked up and taken out of the dense urban sprawl. It wasn't until we had passed far north of Ubud that the traffic thinned out sufficiently to enjoy the surrounding countryside.
After close to three hours of driving, we arrived at a lush tropical garden with trees and plants heavy with exotic fruits including tomatillos, passion fruit, pineapples, cacao, durian, and mangosteen. The plantation also grows coffee beans and 'processes' a portion of them using civet cats to create the (in)famous kopi luwak. More impressive was the old lady who sits and hand roasts the beans one kilogram at a time, each batch taking 45 minutes to darken.
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| The tea matrix |
We declined to order a cup of the civet "cat-poo-ccino", but were still welcomed by a tray of other drinks - herbal teas and flavoured coffees. Each sample was set down with a description of its health benefits. "For thin body" (lemongrass tea), "for strength and vitality" (ginseng coffee), "for good circulation" (mangosteen tea).
The plantation is one of a long line in this fertile region of the island and is part of the burgeoning market of 'agrotourism' that the people are embracing. Seeing full orchards and fields of coffee plants is a wonderful sight, but having 'tourism' appended to everything perturbs me. I start to wonder how much is being done solely for the benefit of me and other visitors to the island and not for the indigenous population. Are we, by the simple act of being here, distorting local markets and trampling over age-old traditions? How much is a cultural ritual continued only as a hollow act for gawpers, having long ago lost its original meaning?
How do we travel responsibly? The people I have met so far are friendly and welcoming, so is it even worthwhile agonising about the effect we might be having? I decided to shelve this inquiry for the day and just enjoy being in the moment.
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| Mount Abang and (taller) Mount Agung |
My reward for suddenly being mindful of my current surroundings was the glorious view of the peaks of Mount Batur on one side and Mounts Aging and Adang flanking Lake Batur, to which we had been conveyed.
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| How all breakfasts should be enjoyed |
It was a breathtaking vista in the village of Kintamani and was the location to enjoy breakfast: banana fritters (pisang goreng). If only I could awake every morning to this view.
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| Cycling the.paddy fields |
We had been taken up high in preparation for the 19km cycle ride ahead. Owing to the altitude, nine-tenths of the journey was down hill with only a couple of steep climbs.
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| A rice farmer's house(!) |
The people here cultivate rice and live in traditional Balinese houses. Our guide explained the process of rice cultivation, with which we have become quite familiar having travelled through several rice-growing countries. The unique aspect of Balinese rice cultivation is the terracing that allows irrigation of each level and growing on otherwise hilly terrain - the landscape of Cambodia and Vietnam's Mekong Delta was pancake flat.
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| I knew people still walked |
This was the Bali we had been searching for. The path led steeply downwards alternately through a landscape of stepped rice fields and quiet villages. True, the roads still had motorcycles zipping back and forth, but occasionally we were blessed with a silent road.
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| A typical village road |
The villages were barely more than two strips of houses on either side of the road. But what they lack in size, they more than make up for in style. The houses are traditional Balinese in structure and layout, each doorway and elaborate gateway flanked by guardians.
On the way, the local schools were emptying out. The children smiled and waved, holding their hands up for a 'high five' as we rode past. The picture was perfect and I felt as though we were appearing in a Bali promotional tourism video.
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| Family temple |
The cycle tour was run entirely by one family who live in the Gianyar regency in one of the traditional homes, which comprises several buildings surrounding an open courtyard. Three generations live in the same complex with the most ornate building in the north of the complex reserved for the eldest. In the north east is the family temple with three towers, often with thatched roofs, representing Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu. In the east is an open-sided pavilion used only for weddings (for the priest's visit) and funerals (to lay out the body). In the south are the toilet and kitchen. This layout is typical of all traditional homes.
Much of Balinese life is outdoors, even the kitchen in this particular home, now that the previous cooking area has been converted to another venture - guest rooms for a homestay. Most importantly, however, there were two cats for K to dote on.
From the kitchen, a feast had been prepared for us.
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| A spread |
There was mie goreng, tofu, tempe manis, sweetcorn fritters, vegetables, peanut sauce, and fresh sambal of galangal flower, shallots and chillies in rice vinegar. We ate heartily, which is testament to the quality of the food and not to the amount of exercise (barely any) that we had done.
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| Plate of plenty |
The day was excellent, showing us a side of Bali we had yet to see and delivering us into the home of a warm and welcoming family for a meal packed full of Indonesian flavours. Such are the accolades for the food, that the family is thinking of opening a restaurant - alongside their homestay and bike tour business. Part of me wonders whether this is as good for the island as it is for the family. Surely, once the neighbours see the money to be earned by inviting visitors into their homes and selling them food, they will follow suit. Surely, nobody will want to put the effort into unrewarding work such as ploughing the fields, planting and harvesting rice. Eventually the manual skills will be lost, as everyone moves into the service industry. Minimarts, clubs and bars will spring up to cater for the influx and the roads will be full of people shuttling to satisfy their desires of the visitors.
The natural beauty of the area will be lost to the hastily constructed buildings, the local cuisine ceded to the tastes of the visitors, and the way of life they originally came to see will non longer exist as everyone is employed in the tourist industry. The only farming equipment will exist in the museum, and ceremonial rituals and dance will only be performed as a pageant for fat westerners to bray over while they eat, and who are righteously resented by the performers and cooks in the belief that they are made to perform and cook solely for the whims of the overstuffed, over-privileged intruders. And, with that, another unspoilt corner of the island will be ruined. Perhaps we should all just stay in our own tiny corner of the world and make sure that nobody mixes with anyone else lest we sacrifice our culture at the altar of progress. Unless, of course, it makes our lives better and alleviates the suffering of unnecessary toil and hardship. Aaaagh, enough...! We had a lovely day and probably none of this will happen to Bali. Probably.
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