"How Green Was My Bali"

In the Hindu religion there is a concept called Rwa Bineda, or interdependent duality. This is sort of like the yin and yang idea -- for everything there is an equal and necessary opposite: light and darkness, life and death, pleasure and pain, etc. Nowhere have I seen this more played out, fittingly, than in Bali, the primarily Hindu island just off the east coast of Muslim Java.

Bali is world-renowned for its lush natural beauty and its incredibly complex and varied artistic culture. It is equally well-known as party central for surfers and young Australians, and of course it holds a place in our memories for the 2002 bomb blasts in the resort town of Kuta that killed hundreds.

We arrived here three days ago after an excruciating overnight bus trip from Gunung Bromo. It's been cloudy and gray the whole time we've been here, and raining for a lot of it, which is disappointing considering this is such a "vacation paradise." But still, you can't help but be struck by the beauty of the place; it's just incredibly green and nature looks ready to take over any given space at any moment. We are staying in a place called Gusti's Garden Bungalows, set in a river valley full of water gardens. It's spectacular.

Gusti's Garden Bungalows

The town we are staying in, Ubud, is the cultural capitol of the island, and has been a center for painters, sculptors, weavers, dancers and musicians for over a century. It's a fascinating place, full of beautiful temples built with orange plaster that really stands out against the sky, and ornate gray stonework and sculptures of Hindu gods and monsters.

Pura Taman Saraswati, the water temple

Sacred monster statue

On any night of the week, you have your choice of a dozen cultural events -- sacred Legong dance with graceful dancers in fantastic costumes moving to the frenetic beat of gamelan, an orchestra of percussion, or Wayang Kulit, Hindu epic stories played out with ornate leather shadow puppets lit with candles behind a screen.

Legong dancer at the Ubud Palace

The Hindu religion pervades life here in Bali in a fashion that is pretty unique. Every home has a little shrine, and the people make offerings there every morning. They seem to build a shrine everywhere something significant has happened, it seems.

Making an offering

Tomorrow is the Hindu festival Galungan. It celebrates the victory of good over evil, and it's one of the major holidays here, so the whole city is preparing. In each home and all up and down every street, families are building big towers called penjors from a long bamboo branch, wrapped with palm leaf decorations and heads of rice hanging down the length of it. When they're finished, they stand them up in the ground so they hang, lantern-like, in front of their doorways.

Preparing for Galungan

You can't step out your door without almost stepping on little ceremonial offerings left everywhere -- usually a little banana leaf basket with some rice, a flower, and a burning stick of incense. In fact, I bumped into one when jumping out the way of a passing car and burned a hole in the back of the leg of my rather expensive mosquito-repelling travel pants, which would hack me off if it wasn't so funny. I regret that some profane expletives escaped my lips, which is ironic considering it was a sacred object that caused it.

And that kind of sums up the experience here, actually. The hawkers here are more persistant even than in Yogya, and you can't walk down the street without being accosted with offers of taxi rides, motorbike rentals, and batik sarongs. Bali is incredibly beautiful, and it's incredibly for sale. The sacred and the profane, karma and capitalism, beauty and rain.

Duality.