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Asia > Indonesia > Nusa Tenggara/ Southeast Islands > Bali > Articles > Bali: Island of the Gods

Bali: Island of the Gods

by Solange Hando

In the walled villages, women weave the mysterious double ikat cloth. They learnt the skill from a goddess, explains an elder, and every thread has magic powers

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As dawn rises all silver and gold, a new wave of hope sweeps across the island. You sense it in the coconut fronds swaying gently in the breeze, the glistening lagoons, the temples silhouetted against the morning sky. Already women laden with offerings of flowers and fruit make their way to the shrines, their graceful sarongs mirrored in the flooded paddies.

After two long years of hardship, Bali wakes from her sleep. Visitors are coming back, in growing numbers, reassured by improved security, delighted to find a tropical paradise as beautiful as ever. On this pious Hindu island, the people never gave up hope and once again, among the orchids and bougainvillaea, the gods look on with a smile.

‘See the trees’, says our guide, ‘the mountains, the fields, the village shrines, there are gods everywhere’. I’m sure he is right but I think their favourite place must be the lofty thatched pagodas scattered across the land. There’s Tanah Lot pounded by foaming waves, bewitching in the setting sun, Ulu Danu drifting through the early mist on Lake Bratan, Bukit Sari nestling in the sacred Monkey Forest, Royal Mengwi with its fine courtyards and moat once at the heart of the kingdom. To the east, beyond the lanes lined with poinsettia and flame trees, Besakih, the Mother Temple, climbs up the slopes of Mount Agung, its shrines sprinkled with petals and grains of rice, like a pathway to Heaven.

At over 3000 metres, Gunung Agung towers above the island, a mighty volcano revered as the seat of the gods. The climb to the top is long and arduous, requiring a string of offerings and prayers along the way, but even if you venture no further than Besakih, the views will take your breath away, sweeping across verdant hills and paddies and along the coast winding towards the island of Nusa Penida.

Far below are palm groves and papaya trees, flowering coffee bushes, banyans with great tangled roots and tiny patches of tapioca growing on the edge of sleepy villages. Children ride on mud-caked buffaloes, women wash their clothes in the streams and luminous rice terraces cling to the slopes where exotic birds flitter in rainbow colours. Meanwhile Mount Batur rises in the distance, with a spectacular road along the old crater rim, looking across to the volcanic lake and the new cone where trekkers gather to watch the sunrise.

The Balinese like to face their mountains, but most visitors head straight for the beach. Who could resist the white sands of Sanur sheltered by the coral reef, the surfing paradise of Kuta, Nusa Dua with its luxury spa and hotels, the deserted bays of the east, the rugged north coast with its volcanic sands? Wherever you go, life moves at a gentle pace and there’s time to relax, soak in the sun, dive, sail, watch the dolphins or the giant kites chasing each other across the sky. Fanned by the feathery branches of casuarinas, ‘warungs’ sell fresh seafood and nasi goreng at the water’s edge while in the night markets, batik and silver bangles mingle with pineapples, rambutans and starfruit.

Nights are filled with magic, haunted by mysterious shadow puppets, men dancing on coconut embers and pretty girls falling into a trance as the moon rises above the village temple. The hypnotic sound of the gamelan echoes through the hills and the sweet scent of frangipani lingers in the air.

The Balinese love to celebrate. Come rain or shine, every day brings a festival somewhere on the island, maybe a symbolic tooth filing ceremony, a baby’s first Balinese half year or a cremation when crowds rejoice in the release of the soul. The gods are invited of course, praised with music and dance around finely decorated temples and shrines.

Art is more than a tradition in Bali, it is a way to please the gods. Some villages have long specialized in particular crafts, stone sculptures in Batubulan, woodcarvings in Mas, gold and silver filigree in Celuk, but the favourite haunt of artists remains the lovely hill town of Ubud where water cascades under the suspension bridge and bird lovers meet at the start of their morning walk. Hurry before the crowds return and with its cool forests, its palaces, galleries and temples, Ubud will hold you spellbound and let you feel the heart of the ‘real’ Bali.

Hire a bike or a taxi and you will find other wonders to explore, perhaps Klungkung with its Court House and covered market or the Holy Springs where locals fetch water to bless their children back home. The eerie Elephant Cave greets you with a bathing pool and a gaping dragon-like entrance hewn out of the rock while Goa Lawah, the 1000 year old Bat Cave temple, offers blessings of a different kind, soon forcing you to edge your way back into the sunlight. They say a mythical snake lives in a secret passage leading all the way to Mount Agung.

On the slopes of the volcano, the Aga people know it well as they uphold their ancient traditions. They claim to be the original Balinese and in the walled villages, men still fight with spiky pandanus leaves to prove their courage while women weave the mysterious double ikat cloth. They learnt the skill from a goddess, explains an elder, and every thread has magic powers.

Today is an auspicious day. A little girl with a handful of beads tugs at my sleeve:’ You like Bali, madame? I have lucky charm, many blessings.’ The sun is high, the future looks bright. Welcome back to the Island of the Gods.