Bedugul

Take a Journey with me to spiritual Bedugul

View from Beratan Mountain

Hello, my name is Tour Guide Lucy.

Today I am going to take you to a place many international tourists miss out on. 

We're going to through a rather ugly grey concrete town. Purely functional, both for its' society and for our trip. However, there is an awesome and imposing mosque with a pink and grey cupola. As we pass, the Adhan will be calling over loudspeaker from the high minaret down the Main Street.

We may have to stop for petrol at this point. Our bikes our quite thirsty, as are we, humming along in the mid day sun. The scenic de-tour to Batu Bulong, a genuine Balinese surf spot, had the passengers feeling lazy for the onward journey. Once on the road again we will stop ten minutes later to ask for further directions. 

One plus point of Lucy tours is that you gain a genuine travel experience. Interaction with local communities is key. Not because Lucy lost the map, in fact it makes it more fun and enriching. A very nice security guard on the main roundabout beside the bypass in North Denpasar will speak fluent English and point us in the right direction. He will wave us off with a smile, laughing to himself at the three foolish Bule. 

We will direct our bikes up a mountain road that eventually leads to Singaraja in the far north of Bali. As the air cools up the hill it will get a bit chilly and Lucy may become slightly premature in her desire to ensure all members of the tour remain warm and dry, stopping to put on a poncho for only a few raindrops. You are welcome to stay well behind her as passing locals laugh and point at the silly white tourist, dressed in a waterproof bed sheet while the weather remains dry. 

When we arrive at Lake Beratan at the top of the mountain we will be quite hungry. We will park on the edge of the lake and umm and ahh over which Muslim bakso stall to eat at. We will spend the equivalent of 50p on our lunches of bakso soup and nasi goreng, and once full we will venture to the botanical gardens and Pura Ulun Danu Beratan. The temple rests on a platform that protrudes in to the vast lake, clouds will fringe the surrounding hills and we will be shrouded in a protective grey fluff that will begin to quickly descend towards us like a mother intent on swaddling her toddlers from a bath. We will be overcome with a highly meditative feeling of peace and safety, however the threat of rain in those grey comforting pillows and the coming night, will shoe us away to find our bed, and some beers beforehand.

The journey back will see us enjoy the great curving bends of the mountain road in the precipitous mountain air, while we see the same bikes over take us and drop back over and over. We will possibly make a wrong turn in to Denpasar upon which point Lucy will decide to make another step backwards up the road and lead us away from the heavy traffic. In fact she will do such a good job of directing everyone away from it, we will end up at a random beach between Tanah Lot and Cenggu. Tired, smelling like road, the setting sun will get in our eyes. We will high-five children leaning out of a slow moving truck which will pass in the opposite direction.

Pura Ulun Danu Bratan at Bedugul

Quiting the job you hate to travel

There's something going down in a language school in Bali 

The last day of work

I tentatively stepped out of the office, my headset, now contraband, tucked neatly in to my handbag. I had discovered it that morning hanging not above my desk as usual, but in the admin room with a stapled sign saying 'Do Not Take'. Umm, I paid 300,000 RP for that thanks.

The last lesson, like any other, passed insignificantly. The sheer boredom of teaching people how to to lay a table in English solidified my utter bliss to leave a poorly paid, joyless, monotonous, technically errant, and somewhat exploitative company (no names for legal reasons) that also happened to be totally de-void of any kind of Human Resources contact. I like teaching, but I don't like being mugged off, and for the same aforementioned legal reasons I can't go in to too much detail. And you thought I was going to write something sentimental!

I parked Gloria outside Zula, the 'Vegetarian Paradise'. A soy latte to encourage my fingers back in to writing mode- my brain had become rather numb in the last three weeks. Saturation point had certainly arrived well before now. The drink arrived, falafel promised and the sky threatened. It was as if the weather knew Nicki had left, that we were mourning and my brain began to wake up from three months in the job from hell. Office chains, a paradox in Bali. Or Bali, the paradox. An opportunity and simultaneous trap. Bali [School Name]. Not what it seems.

I settled down to use the internet, checking in with querying parents. 

"Yes I have finished as of an hour ago and I am free."

Wait. I read it again. My eyes rested on the words, then flicked back up to the ominous purge waiting in the sky. I'm free? How can I be sure. I'm free. My brow furrowed. I wrote it on the page. 

"I'M FREE!"

My heart leapt to the limits of my ribcage. I kept having to type it to believe. I felt how you feel after a really good date. I wanted to shout it, jump up and down and hug people. I am free, I am free, I am free!

Free from 'Is your microphone working?' and all manner of daily technical errors, fuck ups, disconnections and frustrating audio problems.

Free from desks and chairs completely lacking any kind of safe ergonomics and clearly designed for a creature witho t human posture. Free from continuos shooting back pains.

Free from a company that finds any opportunity not to pay its' staff by way of endless new 'policies' (read: loopholes), changes to rules and agreements in contracts without actually making changes to said contract and just generally moving the goal posts and weaselling out of their part.

Free from being pushed as hard as possible to my limits as if I am a robot slave rather than a human.

Free from having a life promised to me that, as it happens, was a total fabrication.

Free from interrogation, criticism and being spoken to like shit when genuinely ill by my entirely unprofessional hyper defensive boss, despite having called in sick as required in protocol.

Free also from a huge lack of staff support or help (ironic as it is), and the completely backwards, neglectful and beurocratic system that goes hand in hand with that.

Free from the visa system, which is essentially a money-making scheme. And therefore, and most of all, free from a company that uses this system to exploit their staff for its' own benefit.

But...

I must say thanks where its' due. To my friends for letting me get to know you, to Bali for allowing me a safe time here and to my family for their support. And to Tim Hannigan for all your help.Thank you Indonesia for the opportunity, the experience and the change you've inspired in me. Thank you to the Universe for teaching me a valuable lesson. But seriously, f*** you [corporation]. 

I don't know what the next chapter will bring, but won't you join me?

Keep reading...

Balinese New Year: Nyepi

Nyepi Eve 

I drove to work as usual at 6am. The luke-warm sun was just rising and my yawns breaking with the dawn, so I was scarcely repaired for the Ogoh-ogoh, demon statues, waiting on the side-lines of Imam Bonjol (a street). Forbidding disposable Demons waited patiently for their annual evening brimstone.  

Ogoh-Ogoh

My desk job passed time in the usual way. Is your microphone on, is your microphone on? Can you hear me? I don't have the time or space on this post to explain but know this: call centre teaching is a maddening irritant guaranteed to leave one numb and dumb by the end of each day.  

Upon leaping for joy out of the office I could see the roads were already clearer than their usual insanity, only an extra sense of urgency prevailed under a giant thunderous cloud.  

A short spell of heavy rain made a false promise to soak the flames meant for the Ogoh-Ogoh before they had begun. Turn off sunset road and an eery silence holds your engine's tongue.

Pecalang (Guards, pronounced Peh-cha-lang) for Nyepi, were out on the streets in Balinese Hindu dress. Only a few taxis clung on to hopes of making some more money before services shut down for 36 hours.  

No one walks in Bali, but this day the roads of Seminyak, where a group of us had hired a villa, were as clear as those of outback Western Australia. We made it out of the house, on foot no less, to the dark streets. No lit up shop fronts, no street lights, no noise, no bikes, just a couple of territorial dogs barking at passing ankles. Balinese new year and we decided on a Greek restaurant. Humus, zucchinis and garlic breath achieved but we missed the parades. The Ogoh-Ogoh remained a far off incubus.  

Nyepi  

I woke to the sound of, nothing! How strange. And welcome.  

A day beside a pool with some books and a dog with but a few rules:  no leaving the house, electricity, noise, eating, sex or booze. The idea is that you are supposed to be silent and still so as not to attract the attention of the evil spirits passing over Bali. I can’t speak for everyone in Bali but I at least, didn’t have sex or leave the house and we all naughtily ate salads, bread and pasta together at the tireless hands of 'Warung Nicki' as she called herself.

  

During the day in the pool, a fellow Nyepi newbie, Ryan, said to me: " We should have a day like this in the West, where we're pushed in to a state of relaxation for a whole day. It's nice to be somewhere so connected to spiritual heritage."  

As the shadows grew long across our poolside paradise, a Pecalang with a Kress (sword) could see our upstairs light and knocked on the door to remind us, forthrightly, to turn it off. He was safeguarding us against the demons, so we resorted to using glow sticks by which to eat.  

Passing by the open pool Lana told us to look up to the sky. The silent darkness in which Bali was shrouded had brought the stars out.  They dangled in the sky above, some shooting across, like a sea of pendant lamps, a cave of glow worms, too numerous to count. I felt cocooned and safe; how could something so beautiful harbour evil spirits? We wondered what Bali may look like to a passing plane or a satellite image at night. 

But were the clouds and the stars, the demons we were meant to be hiding from?   

For Nicki, our own Ogoh-Ogh.