Ubud's Monkey Forest

(4/16/11 Ubud, Bali). Although twenty years had passed, both Margaret and I had fond memories of Ubud's Monkey Forest; so naturally, we wanted to take the kids to this magical realm and introduce them to its mischievous denizens. The photos tell the tale...

Cloaked in luxuriant rainforest, the ornate temple is inhabited by a troupe of  Balinese long-tailed macaque.

The photo opportunities were fantastic, since the monkeys were used to humans. 

So Adam wasted no time....

Nor did the monkey

Both Adam and the monkey seem content, but in fact the monkey was restless, and so...

It jumped!

Leah's not quite sure what to do...

because its claws tickled...

and it was very curious about her earrings. 

This little guy was very cute.

And we saw several happy and well-adjusted families.

Tana Toraja Funeral Customs

(4/23/11) After a grueling 10 hour bus ride to Rantepao, arriving in torrential rain, we hoped our trip to the Tana Toraja region of Sulawesi would be live up to expectations.  It did.  The people were incredibly friendly, the scenery beautiful, the houses stunningly carved, and the culture fascinating. Surprisingly, we saw no tourists outside the capital town, but this is likely due to great guiding by Agus Lamba. 

Although most of Sulawesi is muslim, the Toraja practice christianity. But the religion, mixed with animist traditions, is quite unusually colorful, especially regarding funeral practices. 

In many ways, Torajan life revolves around death.  In the village of Leon, we saw amazing cliff graves. 

Nearby, the graves were offerings to the deceased, including a bottle of soda for the afterworld.

The higher sites on the cliff are reserved for Torajans with high status. Many graves are guarded by "Tau Tau", wooden effigies of the deceased, who stand guard. Sadly, many of the carvings have been stolen and unless the grave site is inaccessible, the families now keep the Tau Tau in their homes.

Tau Tau in Leon.

Tau Tau from a grave in Leora

A young village girl poses next to some recently carved Tau Tau.

The limestone mountains of Torajaland contain many caves, which are also used to house the dead.

Inside the caves near Leora, offerings of cigarettes have been placed near ancient corpses.

Our guide, Agus, knew a family whose grandmother had died two months previously and took us to visit. The Toraja may wait months or years before an auspicious time for a funeral. During this period, they keep the preserved body in their home and act as if she were still present. We were lucky to be invited to "meet" the deceased, and in keeping with custom, we asked her permission when it was time to leave.

In preparation for the funeral, scheduled for June, the family was building extensively. Here, a new rice barn was under construction.  The elaborate carvings, traditionally painted, are rife with symbolism.

Also being constructed, were lodgings for up to a thousand guests!  Pictures can't capture the scale of development; it was going to be an outstanding celebration, with relatives returning from as far away as Papua.

On our drive we met a man washing his water buffalo. Although Torajan men typically won't use shampoo on themselves, they take more care of a buffalo (which spends its day wallowing in mud) than a rich American would lavish on his Ferrari.

Buffalo are the principle form of wealth and are sacrificed in number at funerals.  They sell for between $4000-$35000, with albinos bringing top dollar.

Agus also took us to a "small" funeral ceremony; there were many hundreds of guests. As is customary, we brought gifts for the family of the deceased - a carton of premium cigarettes. (Ugh). Other gifts included well over a dozen pigs, each lashed upside down on a bamboo pole, and carried to the celebration by several men. 

Guests wore black and feasted in beautifully decorated buildings, which had been built just for this  day.

A small girl seemed bored by the proceedings, but we found it an amazing glimpse of a different culture, one which I had dreamed of visiting for twenty years.

Balinese Cockfight

4/20/11 (Amed, Bali) Yesterday afternoon, I stumbled upon a cockfight in the village center. An array of stalls formed a perimeter, selling fruit, snacks, satay, cigarettes, and cool drinks.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense with anticipation as men stroked their roosters, demonstrating their mettle, and riling them with thrusts at an opposing bird. Eventually, two were chosen for combat, and handlers retreated to lash a blade to their feet with many twists of long, red thread

The ring cleared and crowd deepened; then the birds were released in flew at one another. Fierce pecking alternated with leaps as one rooster would kick at another. 

The scene turned ever more gruesome as the blades bit, feathers flew and blood started dripping.  

Cheering ended when it became clear how the contest would end, and the handlers forced the finale by enclosing both birds in a loosely woven basket. Spectators broke, victors laughed and dirty bills exchanged hands.

An old man collected the dead an injured birds, retreating nearby to pluck and boil them. As people milled about and visited the food stands, the process repeated with two more birds being selected for the next fight

Margaret and I had seen a Balinese cock fight 21 years previously, before the sport was legalized. The crowd had been smaller and more furtive, but the atmosphere just as intense. I felt guilty watching then, just as I did yesterday. In addition to the animal cruelty, many men lose hard-earned money, which would be better spent on food for their families.

Scuba Diving in Tulaben, Bali

4/20/11 (Amed Bali) Sitting on our bungelow's terrace, the dawn quiet is broken by a strange mixture of girlish laughter and staccato roosters.  The uniformed school girls playing with friends and preparing for class, and I imagine the roosters are calling their fallen brethren who died in yesterday's cock fight.

Stretching below us, arcs a black cobble beach lined with dugout canoes, whose white paint gleams in the morning sun. Their gangly outriggers resemble gangly spiders.  A faint wind tickles the Timor sea, stretching languidly towards the northern horizon. To the west a lava toe of the mighty Agung volcano edges the beach: black rock draped with verdant vines and rippling with palms in the breeze.

It's a good time to reflect on yesterday's incredible experiences. In the morning we donned scuba gear in nearby Tulaben and explored the 395' wreck of Liberty, a cargo ship which was sunk in 1942 by Japanese topedoes on its way from Australia to the Phillipines. I simply can't describe the splendid multitude of fish species or bewildering variety of delicate coral fronds, horns, mushrooms and pods. My favorite memories: a purple spotted ray lurking low, the irridescent lips of a giant clam, a swirling school of silver jack pulsing in a mamoth ball above us, a forest of sinuous garden eels slowly sinking into their holes as we approached, swimming through narrow pasages to the Liberty's cargo hold, and watching Adam, Galen and Leah soaking it all in!

Mountain Biking Bali Ricefields

4/17/11 (Jimbaren, Bali) From our base in frenetic Ubud, we joined a mountain bike tour to visit the countryside.  In the cool, early morning a minibus drove us high to the crater rim for breakfast overlooking Lake Batur. From the true summit across the crater dropped a tongue of black aa laval, but the vigorous vegetation were creeping their way into the desolation.

After breakfast, our fantastic, informative and funny guide Joe led off on bikes. We whizzed down tiny 'roads,' dodging potholes, thru small villages in a freespirited and festive mood; children lined the street to slap hands, shouting "Cho!" Soon we left the pavement for a dirt track through the ricefields.  A network of irrigation canals, ditches and troughs ensured that water never left us. Gurgling cheerfully, it seemed to help celebrate the day.

Joe punctuated the ride with interesting diversions - helping a farmer plant emerald rice shoots in the wet, oozing mud, visiting a family compound to see traditional rhythms of life, exploring the crevices of a mamoth Banyan tree, and trying our hands at harvesting rice alongside a group of elderly women. The trip ended with a fabulous Balinese feast - a perfect day.

North Stradbroke Island

Last week (3/28) we celebrated the visit of Seattle friends Cate and Mia by taking train, ferry and bus to visit North Stradbroke Island, closely offshore in Brisbane Harbor. The island, which is mostly sandy beach, is rooted on a few rocky sections including an intensely beautiful eroded chasm termed "The Gorge".

 

Margaret, Leah, Mia & Cate on the Gorge Walk

The gorge-concentrated surf whipped itself into thick foam

Masked Lapwing

The beach-side vegetation was intricately beautiful

More pictures on Picasa

Kangaroos in the Mist

Leveraging two business trips, Margaret and I met in Melbourne last Friday for a wonderful date weekend.  Renting a tiny car, we drove to the Grampian Mountains through increasingly wild range lands dotted by scattered sheep and ruminating cattle. Blue haze hung from eucalyptus trees. After a stunning sunset, we arrived in the small village of Halls Gap with the full moon washing the sandstone cliffs above our honeymoon cottage.

Waking up the next morning, we gazed across the misty field to see a mob of kangaroos grazing in the meadow. As we snuck closer a few bounced off with their outrageous and effortless jumps. Later that morning, while driving to our hike, we saw a pair of wild Emus cantering across another field.  And then as we stomped thru some exotic scenery on our way up Mt Stapleton, we flushed rock wallabies from the bush. Totally cool!

The scenery was also magnificent. Exposed slickrock had eroded to look like twisted elephant hide. Massive ferns and leathery leafed plants mixed with delicate flowers. Beehive falls tricked down a mossy cliff, coyly denying the majesty which it must command during “The wet.”