watching the rice grow

Home.  It’s really good to be home.  It was really good to be there.  As we juggle with schedules and responsibilities and this pesky lingering jetlag, we try to hold onto the memories of a pretty perfect month.

Thank goodness for pictures.

Once again, thank you so much for visiting, for your gracious comments….for watchin’ the rice grow with us.  Stay tuned for updates on my novel of (most likely) the same name…

(click on FS on bottom right corner to see pics in full screen)

…it’s so much more than those small, white grains sticking to your spoon.

It’s much more than the contents of the white take-out container that accompanies your moo goo gai pan.

To understand rice and its significance, particularly in Bali, is to get an exclusive glimpse into the world of the Balinese people.  For many, their lives and their religion are centered around the life of rice – the planting, growing and harvesting of the very staple that nourishes them.  And every phase is celebrated with a ceremony.

the rice fields at Tatiapi when we arrived, flooded, plowed and leveled for planting

It has been utterly fascinating to me to learn about the whole rice-growing process.  We discover our passions in the strangest of places, and for me, I think I was a rice farmer in another life.  We are very lucky to have witnessed some of the different stages of the rice cycle, right in front of our villa.  When we got here, they were still preparing the fields for planting, which entails flooding the fields and plowing and leveling the mud.  Many farmers still use water buffalo for plowing.  The irrigation system is planned in accordance to the schedule of planting, as water flows from the top of the terraced fields to the bottom in a very deliberate way.  While they are preparing the fields, they mark off one section to plant seeds that will grow into seedlings.

planting the seedlings, one by one

Ten days after we arrived at Tatiapi, the seedlings were ready to be transplanted, and we watched them plant the seedlings, one-by-one, by hand, into the prepared fields.  To watch the farmers plant is like watching someone put a blade of grass into the dirt, one at a time, until acres are covered – but like, in hypersonic speed!

Once the fields are planted, we, the spectators, sit back and watch the fields transform into different shades of green (while the farmers continue to manage and maintain the fields).

Watching the rice grow.

mature rice

At harvest time, the mature rice is threshed right in the fields, and the rice grains are laid out to dry.  After the fields have time to rest, they are flooded and the cycle starts all over again!

Phew.

All of this done by hand.  In the hot sun.

So, the next time you take a fork-full of that fluffy, white stuff…give a small nod of gratitude to those rice farmers.

Our walk through the rice terraces of Jatiluwih

endless views at every turn

contemplating rice...

A few days ago we were invited by our host, Agung, to attend a special Hindu ceremony at his temple, a ceremony for the Gods that happens only once a year.  He and his family have been preparing for this ceremony for weeks, and one of the first things he said to us when he picked us up from the airport was, “You come on 4 of June to my temple for special ceremony?”

We were like, “Sure,” not really understanding the significance of this invitation.

Even now, I’m not sure I fully understand what it was that we were a part of that morning, but I know it was special.  To me, Bali is the most spiritual place on earth.  To fully grasp what Hinduism means to most Balinese, you almost have to live it, because, I believe, it’s more than a religion of scriptures to them.  As a mere observer, I see their  Hinduism interwoven in all aspects of their life…art, music, dance, family and rituals.  Although Hindu ceremonies seem to happen every day in Bali, this one was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, at least for us.

The day began with a curious delivery of a pile of folded cloth to our bungalow.  We determined that they were the special clothing we were to wear to enter the temple, but how on earth to assemble ourselves??  Fortunately, we found Ayu, our house caretaker, to show us exactly how to put on the clothing.  As you can imagine, it took a bit of bribery and a few white lies (these are special Balinese princess clothes!) to get Kai to consent to being wrapped in a sarong and a lacy long-sleeved top on a hot day.  But when all was said and done, we were off, decked out in ceremonial garb, side-saddle on motorbikes to the temple to join Agung and his family.  Temples in Bali are cement walled-in structures with open-air patios and shrines inside, and it seems like there’s one on every corner.  During festivals and ceremonies, they are transformed into beautiful, colorful, elaborately decorated offerings to the Gods.  Prior to a ceremony, you’ll see women congregating around a temple, making hundreds of offerings and decorations from hand, from palm leaves, flowers, fruit…

When we got to the temple, Agung led us to sit down on the cement floor to wait with everyone for the priests to process into the temple.  There were dance performances by young children to offer thanks to the Gods.  Then, the prayers were led by the priests, which was most fascinating to watch.  Each person had a small tray of offerings in front of them.  Incense was passed around to place on their trays.  Then, as the priest called out, each person would take something from their tray, like a flower, and hold it up with clasped hands to pray.  When they were done praying, they put the flower in their hair.  This ‘dance with the Gods’ was repeated until all of the offerings on their tray were offered up.  The morning was brimming with ritual.  More than an hour had passed on the hard cement floor, and although my back had turned into a mess of spasms, I could somehow transcend above the pain in a room saturated with prayer.  I eventually took our restless daughter home for lunch while Megan stayed for the rest of the ceremony, almost two hours more.  Megan came home, glowing, blessed by holy water, with rice pieces pasted to her forehead.  Being the mature 49 year-old that I am, I tried to take them off because they distracted me while she was telling me about the ceremony, but she calmly stated, “Leave them.  They’re significant.”

That was it.  It was a most significant day.

Oh, the inevitable stroll through Ubud occurred, where every other second, one of us exclaimed, “This is SO different!”

For starters, the two main roads turned into thirty.  Jalan Bisma, the dirt road that leads to Happy II that we were suprised to find on our last trip to Bali is now a paved main road (I have not found Happy II yet).  The stalls of Bali handicrafts have turned into glass-front boutique stores.  There are now at least a dozen restaurants that serve pizza and several dozen coffee shops.  There are three gelato shops within a block from each other.  The prices have at least quadrupled.  Every Balinese man, woman, child over ten owns a motorbike (or so it seems).  Every inch of space is occupied by a shop, a restaurant or a guest house.  There is not a rice field to be seen.

There is a friggin’ STARBUCKS!

I know that change is inevitable.  But I still like to whine a little.  I remember taking Megan back to my childhood home in upstate NY, which had been surrounded by cornfields and apple orchards – all gone and replaced by McMansion developments.  I couldn’t stop obsessing and grumbling about it, while Megan sighed, “Yes, I know.  There used to be a corn field here.”

That said, as I sip on my Starbucks iced coffee …

We have had some excellent dining experiences in Ubud.  Both Megan and I have stuck to the fabulous Indonesian cuisine, despite the nice international options.  I think Kai appreciates the fact that many restaurants here now have a kid menu that usually includes some form of french fries or noodles (I may have ruined chances of getting her to try the local cuisine when I gave her a taste of my satay without tasting it myself and it was insanely spicy.  Whoops.  “Mama, stop this fire in my mouth!”)   I, personally, can’t get my fill of satay, which, might not sound all that exciting (chicken, pork, or beef on grilled on wooden skewers, served with a thick peanut sauce, white rice, and usually some sliced cucumber or garnish)  but however it’s made here, well, it melts in your mouth.  Tomorrow Agung is getting us some babi guling, or suckling pig for dinner.  I can’t wait.

So, Ubud is different.  To me, the charm has diminished quite a bit.  The ease of perusing art and crafts down the street is gone.  It’s a bit overwhelming, figuring out where to eat or shop .  This is not my final report.  Check back with me in three weeks.

Satay dinner 75,000 rupiah

Starbucks tall iced-coffee 24,000 rupiah

To be able to take Ubud in, in small doses at a time, and then retreat to our bungalow in the ricefield……. priceless.

Day three for us -we have been happily hiding out in our villa, slowly, slowly acclimating to the time, the food, the villa with its luxuries and limitations, the weather (sunny, 80′s – perfect), with no desire to explore beyond our villa walls yet.  Agung took us grocery shopping (the big market where, as you’d expect, the local goods are inexpensive and the imported luxuries will be a splurge for us) the first day and I’ve been trying to make most of our meals here.  With a small 2-burner countertop stove as our only cooking device, it takes a bit of ramp-up time.  No coffee maker, just a coffee press.  No microwave to warm up food.  No oven.  No toaster.  So I grilled toast in our one frying pan.  Fried eggs in the same pan.  Fresh papaya, pineapple, bananas.  Mangos, come to find out, aren’t in season.  Pout.  I’ve managed to make a vegetable stir-fry with rice and spaghetti for dinner so far…I am confident that in time meals will become more vibrant as I learn about the local vegetables, the spices…

Mornings have been like this:  I wake up at 5:30, try to stay in bed, in the dark, as long as possible so I can shift (says my sleep-scientist wife).  I ignore her advice because the morning is calling out to me and I take my laptop to The Porch (I’ve decided it has earned the Capital Letters distinction) to get a little writing done before everyone wakes up.  I’ve mastered the coffee press, so I sip and write, utter bliss.

Kai wakes up next, around 7am.  She discovered a gazebo-like structure in the corner of the garden our first day here, and she promptly dubbed it her castle.  It’s actually called a Bali bale, a place for meditation or small ceremony.  It’s the first thing she visits in the morning.  Megan wakes up and we hold down our daughter long enough to get some grub in her before she’s off to jump into the pool.  She’s a water bug just like her mommy, so Megan is the next one in the pool and they spend all morning there.  Eventually I join them to do my set of aqua therapy exercises.  The pool is the most perfect pool we’ve ever swam in.  Komar, the young man who takes care of the grounds, cleans the pool every morning so it needs very little chlorine.  And that’s been our mornings, so far.

Included in the cost of our stay, Agung will drive us into Ubud twice a day.  Today, while we were swimming in the morning, I said, “I think it’s time.”

“Casa Luna for lunch?” Megan asked.

“You read my mind.”

Casa Luna opened right around the first time I came to Bali.  Janet, an Australian, married a Ketut, a Balinese, and they opened one of Ubud’s first (if not the first) bakery and cafe.  It was very unique.  You could get incredible baked goods and a good capucino, as well as Indonesian food AND pizza and pasta there.  At night they showed movies in a big room with couches and pillows.  It was a traveler’s home away from home and both Megan and I spent quite a bit of time there.  Today, Agung drove us there for lunch.  Getting our first glimpse of Ubud was thrilling and crazy (the changes) at the same time.  Gratefully, Casa Luna looked practically the same.  Ketut, the owner, was there.  He said I looked familiar and I told him that I met him and his wife twenty years ago.  He said, “Back then we were crowded every night.  Now, there are so many other dining options.”  He told that the movie room is gone.  “People can watch videos from their rooms now.”  But the ambviance – open air seating area with comfy chairs surrounded by gardens – was the same.  Our nasi campur (rice with mini sides of meat, veggies) was sublime.  The croissants….to die for.

It was our first peek at Ubud.  We went home so Kai could get a nap, craving for more of Ubud.  In time…