Lunch with the King

Wed. January 9

Last year, serendipity led to a friendship with Chokwah, a member of the royal family of Ubud. (See posts below from April- May 2011.)  I learned he was actually a prince within the royalty.

On Monday this week, I went back to the royal temple to inquire after him and as luck would have it, not only was he there, but he remembered me from last year and explained that they were creating a Barong, a fabulous animal creature dedicated to protecting good in the world and one of my favorites in the Balinese dance-drama stories.

The new Barong

On Tuesday, I return wearing my sarong and sash so I can enter the temple and capture the process in images. It has already been going on for two months. These are the last two days before the village people will come pick it up.

When I tell my host Danu about this adventure, he is impressed that I know Chokwah as a friend and tells me he will be made King in a few months -- after I am gone, alas.

I return today (Wednesday) to see the barong completely assembled and arrive just in time to see the creative team assess the movement of the Barong’s hinged mouth, watch them all take photos of their stunning creation. Chokwah gives me permission to climb the high temple steps to take photos, a privilege not usually allowed foreigners. I am honored.

Artisans assess their work

Refining Rangda's ornaments

Completed Barong

Completed Rangda

One thing I learn here is patience. Things move slowly because of the heat – pelan pelan, slowly slowly. After the photos, I sit with Chokwah, chat a bit, but mostly listen to Balinese, watch the tweaking of the barong, and sit still. He asks to see my camera and zips though the menu in a knowledgeable way.

That’s how I end up having lunch with the King. It is time for everyone to eat, but I don’t realize this until he asks if I would like some food. It is delicious, a bit spicy, but fine. Lunch with the king today -- how lucky can you get?

Quick shot of lunch with Chokwah (didn't want to disturb him)

As if this timing weren’t enough, I will also be here for an important three-day ceremony in his family temple Jan. 25 – 29, the time of the full moon, an important part of Balinese rituals.

Tomorrow morning I will go in full sarong and kebaya blouse ceremonial attire to see and video the ceremony for the barong before the villagers from Tebenon bring it home. It is their first Barong, a momentous occasion complete with water purifications given by the priests. Before the village only had Rangda, the guardian of evil in the world. The villagers tell me the new Barong and Rangda are a gift from the king, an act of great generosity since they are extremely expensive. Well done Chokwah.

Now they will have balance restored, the true Balinese belief—good and evil both exist. Neither wipes out the other, only power struggles that end in balance. Such a different worldview from our good guys-bad guys-good guys always win ethic. Many guardian deity statutes and banyan trees are wrapped in black and white fabric the Balinese use to show balance of good and evil, with neither ever winning over the other, both always present.

Ceremony for the new Barong and Rangda (documented by the ubiquitous iPad!)

 

 

 

Post-script: It is clear the people who work with/for Chokwah like him, because they often joke around with him. One of them came over and made me take this photo -- the king being a worker and using the power spray to clean the temple pavement! A good practice for royalty . . .

 

Dawn at Danu's

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Pengosegan, Bali           

            The smell of incense wakes me. It is part of the morning offering, so I know Danu’s wife Ketut is about though I did not hear her over the sound of water cascading past on its way to rice fields. Roosters crow, birds and insects chirp; the geckos are quiet after a long night of orations.

            Frogs sang me to sleep, though my body rebelled at being asked to go to sleep at an hour when it is broad daylight at home. Day turned night abruptly as the jet engine’s hurled us across the Pacific from San Francisco.

            I woke at 4 a.m. resolved to lay in bed time dawn, sleeping in short bursts, relieved at the daylight at 6 a.m. I’ll go for my morning walk now, then breakfast at 8 served by Ketut on my lovely terrace surrounded by palms and bamboo and birds with bright azure, brilliant yellow, trilling calls. Ketut and her children will help teach me Indonesian and I will exchange English with them. She will teach me how to weave palm leaves into small offering baskets filled with flowers and rice to greet the gods each morning and evening. I am here and can hardly believe it.

Morning walk

This morning's visitor

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I walk the small road behind Danu's and find rice fields and the villas that sprout all over Bali, as the main crop becomes tourists instead of rice. Still, one paddy is freshly filled with water and the ducks  are here to eat insects and fertilize the water with their poop, creating good conditions for the small rice seedlings to be planted.

Next, a small spa that does an hour massage for $20 -- yes! Antidote to 30 hours travel. Further along is a wood carver pounding out a lion from a huge piece of wood, then a gallery with stunning wood carvings. I realize we are close to Mas the wood carving village. Each village near Ubud has an art specialty -- wood carving, painting (Ubud), jewelry (Celuk), shadow puppets (Sukawati). The families in each one carry on their traditions in each generation. A carving of Kuan Yin with a dragon (naga) is stunning. Much too large to carry home, but breathtaking to behold. The artist says he can carve a smaller one and I order it. Ready by the end of the month.

The urge to take Bali home is irresistible. Each trip yields another beautiful piece for my collection. They give deep pleasure and memories of this moist, mild morning on the ridge among the rice.

Return to Bali

This is what it means to be in Bali. To stand and watch two black butterflies spin their flirting dance near the red bird of paradise and lush green leaves. They pivot united by an invisible cord, not losing sight, not losing center, within two feet of me, now one, now near my face and I see how the Balinese Legong dancers choreograph their butterfly dance, understand the inspiration.

Hundreds of cars and motor scooters race by us. Some look to see what I see. I am still. I have time. I am in no time, now time. Their black wings mesmerize. Why walk on when this is right before me?

(didn't take photo till after they flew off, so don't strain your eyes looking for them -- imagine their duet instead . . .)

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Water Everywhere?

Ithaca, NY

Water Reflections

Former pond where peepers, wood frogs and cat tails lived-- East Hill, Town of Ithaca

              On my morning walks, I stop by the marshy swamp behind my house and watch for frogs or skeeters in the summer, the sky through cattails in winter. Today it is filled in with grass and dried leaves. The cattails are dead. Where have the frogs hopped? I have no idea.

            The pond uphill where I enjoy hearing peepers in spring is completely dry. The reeds are brown. Grass is beginning to grow in the center. I can walk across the whole thing on dry land. My friend’s spring-fed pond is always full, except in August. It has been down at least 3 feet all summer and autumn.

Former marsh now dried up and filling in with grass--East Hill, Town of Ithaca

            Despite the heavy rains in fall and the storm rains we had from Sandy, our plentiful water has disappeared. We hope it is only temporary. NASA maps of underground water show very low supplies throughout the entire state and region. This is clearly not good.

            We have always had the relaxed luxury of abundant water, of being a northern rainforest. We think of water conservation as something for California, Arizona, Nevada, not us. Take a look at your own nearby waters and see what you think.

            True, we may have a very wet winter full of snow and precipitation. We surely couldn’t have a drought two years in a row, winter and summer, we think. But no one knows. The weather was always hard to predict; now it is even harder.

            Last fall, the Town of Ithaca Conservation Board newsletter talked about water conservation to save on electricity. Why? Because water flows downhill easily to the Bolton Point Municipal Water Treatment Facility, but it must be pumped back uphill to all our homes and businesses at a cost of $500,000 a year -- half a million dollars to deliver water to our faucets, the largest cost in the Town budget.

            It’s time for us to start thinking of ways to turn on the faucets less. “Where there are faucets, there is wasted water,” has been my motto for a while. It doesn’t have to run continuously when we brush our teeth, wash our hands and face or dishes. We don’t have to take long showers using 100s of gallons of water. Americans use an average of 1,000 gallons of water a week per person compared to about half that for Europeans. Each toilet flushes alone is about 6 gallons.

            Yes, water does recycle itself back into the clouds, but if it doesn’t rain or snow, it takes longer to return, sometimes as long as a hundred years. So down the drain and back into the faucet is far from an instant circle. And then there is the electricity cost to consider.

            Our water billing costs are about to increase. This is a good time to start to think about your own water habits—you and the faucet. If you’re curious, you can take a short, fun look how much water you use a week at h2oconserve.org – good for all ages, with colorful cartoons.

"Re-Imagining Water" Presented in New Orleans

I had the wonderful opportunity to give my multimedia presentation about water in New Orleans on Earth Day April 22, 2012. For people who survived Katrina and live below sea level in most places in their city, talking about water is a whole different thing.

Since part of my presentation focuses on how we are convinced we need to buy bottled water, even though it is tested for impurities far less than municipal water, and people in New Orleans are taught to be afraid of their local water, it was an interesting Q & A afterward. I encouraged them to read the reports from their local water boards and compare them to other cities as I did to learn the truth - their water is fine to drink most of the time and they know nothing about the sources for the bottled water they pay a great deal for every day.

They were open to the idea of using water filters in their homes and getting reusable water bottles. I proudly showed them my Tap Back The Tap bottle and told them about FoodandWaterWatch.org. Hopefully, a little bit of change will happen in time.

They did like my slogan: "Where there are faucets, there is wasted water," and appreciated our free flowing water in a new way. And i learned more about the raging side of water in their Katrina stories. Water is both benign and fierce, worthy of respect either way.

Re-Imagining Water: An Evening of Water Wisdom & Art

Open yourself to new worlds of water through art, music, film, dance and animation. These poetic and profound water sources will provide insights that help us re-imagine our relationship with this essential resource so we can preserve and respect it, rather than take water for granted.

This evocative evening will feature Mara Alper’s video art Sacred Waters of Bali, documentary excerpts, animation, political humor and compelling water works by renowned artists and poets.

MARA ALPER is an award-winning media artist and professor at Ithaca College, where she teaches video production and the online course “Water = Life.”

JOE SMELLOW will play live music accompaniment on bamboo flute, didgerido, and percussion. Natural soundscapes designed by LANG ELLIOTT of NatureSound Studio.

For more information contact Mara Alper at www.MaraAlper.com 

with Mara Alper, Joe Smellow and guests

Friday   11/11/11

7:30 p.m.

Community School of Music & Art (CSMA)

Ithaca, NY

 

C(h)okwah's New House

May 9

            As I leave for my last outing, we run into C(h)okwah, and he invites us to see his “small house” right now. We drive a short way from the royal palace where his uncles live, turn onto a side road and find ourselves in front of an incredibly intricate and imposing  sculpted entrance way towering above us still under construction.

            Inside is an unbelievable mansion/palace with intricate, stunning wood and stone carvings. There is a view of a terraced rice field. It turns out there was none there—he had it built for his viewing pleasure. As he did with the waterfall and stream we see. Incredible, especially considering that many of Bali’s rice fields are being sold and transformed into hotels and villas for tourists.

C(h)owah and his rice field

            During all the preparations and ceremonies  at his family temple, I have not seen C(h)okwah with any particular woman or children. He talked to everyone amiably, but no one particular connection. I wonder if he is single — just can’t help that “prince in the castle” fantasy! Too ingrained! My friend asks who will live here with him and he says his wife and children will live on the lower floor. Of course.  He is the lord and master, indeed. I make sure to get many photos of him at his “small house.”

            Farewell, quasi-prince of Ubud. I graciously thank you for encouraging my curiosity, inviting me into your family circle and fanning my prince fantasies. May our paths cross again soon.

Yes, I confess I  had a crush on him, if you didn't guess it already! What's a girl to do . . . blame it on those Disney films!

One more post coming about Bali in the next few days -- I left the day after I took these images. I miss it still and am making plans to return next year. Will probably organize a small group trip, so if you're interested in joining, let me know.

Royal Ceremony Day

May 7

Saraswati Goddess + Dragon (Naga) Banner

More offerings from the family and villagers begin to arrive to add to the already abundant offerings. C(h)okwah explains what each building in the temple compound is for, where the priest will sit. I ask if I can take the water blessing with the priest. Yes, of course, he says. Just follow what the others do.

I have seen foreigners do this and know the Balinese are always welcoming, but I ask since this is the family ceremony. When the ceremony begins, I do the series of prayers and feel deeply moved by the water sprinkled by the priest and drinking the sacred water (tirta). The women and priest giggle as I hold my hands incorrectly for the first drink. The women show me how, and I do it correctly for the next two libations.

Next, I sprinkle water on my face and head as they do, then do my best to place the cooked rice on my third eye, collarbone and mouth as the Balinese do, but mine is a bit messy not a smooth patch as the others have. Practice makes perfect. It is my first initiation of the evening. My friend Ati takes a photo for me.

Mara receives tirta (in gold sash) Photo: Ati Citron

The ceremonies are moving as always, and accompanied by laughter and talking and performances not watched by anyone but the tourists, as usual. C(ho)wah comes by to tell me the prayers will start soon. I go next door to my conveniently located room, refresh the battery and recording media, ready for the grand finale.

Only a video can begin to capture the multi-faceted sights and sounds . . .

I continue to record images, until I see a general movement of the crowd in one direction. I follow them eagerly to document the final prayers. My camera is on, but hanging at my side, pointing toward the crowd randomly.

Chokwah finds me and says: Would you like to pray with us or do you want to take pictures? I instantly reply I want to pray with you. Follow me, he says and leads me to where his immediate family sits, seats me next to his mother. Is your camera off, he asks. Yes, I say forgetting, it is still on. I see the red light, he says. Oh! I press it off, glad to find there are some things beyond the lens eye, too sacred for video.

Ibu Raka places a plate of various flower and palm leaf offerings in front of me. She lights a stick of incense, hands it to me. I watch to see what others do with theirs and place it on the plate among the flowers. As the priest calls out each phase, she lifts the correct flower offering, and hands it to me, shows me what to do. I follow gladly. There are five prayers and by the end, I feel truly blessed, accepted as an initiate. I will leave Bali with these blessings in my heart.

Family Temple Ceremony Preparations Continue

May 6

            Each day I return and record the progress in decorations and offerings. It is impressive, even for a culture so dedicated to beautiful offerings. On the day before the ceremony, a man who has seen me videotape each day comes over. He is handsome, important looking, very well dressed.  He is literally and figuratively a prince . He chats. I ask him questions about the occasion, the events. He tells me the ceremony is tomorrow at 7, invites me to come. I am pleased, though all ceremonies are open to everyone, but to be invited by the prince is quite lovely.

            He asks if I have met his mother. I say no. He leads me to the imperious looking woman who greeted my camera with scorn a few days before. Now her son is introducing me to her. She is Ibu Raka, gracious and regal. We both reassess each other, decide to begin anew. I compliment her on the beauty of the offerings, thank her for their invitation and their lovely bungalows where I stay.

Ibu Raka (in poor light and unfocused, but love her smile here!)

            The prince’s name is C(h)okwah. He has a CW monogramed on his shirt. He tells me he is building a small house up the road, I should come see it. Please note: I am at least 20 years older than this handsome prince, but nevertheless, I am flattered and intrigued. It’s just a small house, he says. Ha-ha, I think. A few days later I see it, but more on that anon . . .

C(h)okwah - CW

Blessings a few days before the ceremony (priests marry here-this seems to be a courtship moment)

The Family Temple Ceremony: Preparation Begins

3 May 2011

View from Puri Saraswati Bungalow room

             The bungalows where I stay in Ubud were built by the royal family in the 1970s. There was once several kingdoms in Bali, but though they are defunct, the royal family and their lineage remains. The kings palace s across the street and the family temple is here, right next to my room. It is a richly embellished temple, even when there are no celebrations. When I return to Ubud, extensive preparations are under way for a ceremony at the family temple on Saturday.  I am thrilled at my good luck and proximity.

Family temple dragon/naga for protection

            The sound of people talking and laughing wakes me up the next morning and at first I feel grumpy, spoiled by the usual quiet here in the early morning. I look out my window and see that the temple preparation room across from me is busy with activity.

View from my verandah toward the ceremony preparation room

           Clearly something special is happening and everyone is bustling about.  Sure enough an hour or so later, a woman arrives who is clearly the grand dame, the queen mother, so to speak. Everyone hustles. She is friendly to them all, though clearly they aim to please. Soon after an entourage of elegant women dressed in the best kebaya blouses and batiks, hair perfectly coiffed and adorned, enter the temple.

Ibu Raka in pink flowered kebaya creating offerings

            I follow with my camera later in the day, and  find them making exquisite offerings form colored dough. The lovely ladies all sit under one pavilion, the family pavilion I later find out and chat and laugh and make decorations. When I film them, I am not greeted with the usual smiles and openness I have experienced everywhere else in Bali. They are indifferent to me, not pleased with being a tourist attraction. They are royalty after all, and I a mere observer. (This will change a few days later, once Ibu Raka and I are introduced - see next posting)

            I move on to the men who are rigging bamboo arches, and decorating the statues with fabric.

           Behind the building, well out of sight, the serving women prepare other decorations, having a much livelier time than the fine ladies, and much more friendly and smiling toward me. I already know some of them from the hotel, we chat and laugh.

Dewa (Goddess) Saraswati and her attendant

(before her "face lift" -- see upcoming post)

Education

2 May 2011  

          My driver, Yoko, comes to pick me up for the day's excursions. I ask him what he did last night after he left me at my place. I expect him to say he hung out with his friends or family.  Instead, he tells me he went to the rice field to help his father with the cows that are used to till the fields before planting. Then he went home and tended to the four pigs he is raising to sell. Each morning at 5 or so, he takes some onions or beans to market to sell, then tends the rice fields. If it’s a good day and he has a tourist to drive, he does that too. 

Terraced rice fields in Tegallang

            I am amazed. I ask him how much he gets of the $25 fee for being tour guide, translator and driver. He tells me he gets $5, the rest goes to the car owner, a business man.  The day before, I bought him lunch as a tip. Today, I give him as extra $5. I had been told the average Balinese person earns $60 a month. Now I understand more about how it comes to pass. We are so fortunate and we barely know it.

Yoko, tour guide and rice farmer

            The man who manages the bungalow I stayed in for two nights explains that his wife is going to school to become a teacher and how he supports her in this with both enthusiasm and financing to pay for it. I met her the day before and we had a very good connection in our brief conversations. He says that she is doing well in school, but even if you graduate top in your class, you still have to pay the government about $15,000 to even apply for a teaching job, with no guarantee you will get it. I am speechless. Again, we take so much for granted in our system.

On way to village school

            Putu Paja and his wife Ani are both so sweet and positive, that I feel moved to make a small contribution to her education. I give her some money and when I say, “This is only for your education, not for the children, not foranything but you,” her eyes tear up.  I believe in you, I tell her. She thanks me and says I am the first foreign friend she has had. We are both moved. 

Putu Paja & Ani in Tebola

            Ironically, when I return to Ubud the next day, the streets are draped with red and white banners, and the school children are dressed in uniforms and costumes. It is a national education celebration day. The hotel where I stay is hosting a meeting at 4 p.m. for the education dignitaries.

            Here is the photo I don’t take: all the soldiers seated in rows listening to four high ranking military men talk about education, while military police in camouflage escort them all. This is all taking place on the patio where guests normally have breakfast and we must walk past this as we go in and out. It is grim. On the other hand, the military police are not armed and some are friendly and jovial towards me as I walk by. I decide to venture a smile at the old soldiers, but they glare back.

            I do not have a good impression of the Indonesian education system from these two days events. I have heard other tales that are dismaying. But then, we don’t have a lot to brag about for our educational system either, especially these days.