Uluwatu

Now we’re in Uluwatu, on Bali. Uluwatu is named for the rocky cliffs that abut the ocean here. They remind me, in the best way, of Big Sur in California.

The Balinese aesthetic is distinct and delightful

Cool mural at the eponymous — and notoriously lazy — surf break

We came here, honestly, because we couldn't take the heat in Thailand and didn’t want to deal with the humidity in Vietnam. (I know, I know.) So here we are, tucked into a little trio of surf joglos – the two others being occupied by a couple of American digital nomads (and a friendly dog) and an expat American family with two girls near Sam and Joe’s age who are here while the sailboat they usually call home undergoes maintenance – near a handful of the best surfing beaches in the world, a few hundred meters from a decent $2 cappuccino. Not too shabby, to be sure. The region is also home to a lovely old temple of the same name.

I will say, briefly, and by way of explaining our experience at that temple, that religion here in Bali is confusing to me. Officially, nearly all Balinese folks practice Balinese Hinduism, notably distinct from the Muslim character of the rest of Indonesia, but also distinct from (the varieties of) Hinduism as it’s practiced in India. For one thing, Balinese Hinduism is, on paper at least, a monotheistic faith. In practice, Balinese Hinduism seems to be a porous melange, its boundaries blurred and fluid, almost a way of doing and experiencing spirituality in the world rather than a specific set of tenets and practices. Adherents combine Hindu tradition with local animism and even Buddhist images and ideas. The result, at least for visitors to Bali, is a gentle sense of enveloping spirituality without any prickly details to get hung up on.

For example, canang sari offerings, small boxes woven from banana leaves and filled with a mixture of flowers, fruits, incense, sometimes fake coins or even paper money are found just about everywhere each morning: along the sidewalk, tucked around small shrines, lined up at bridges or clumped around small streams. I asked, several times, who these sweet offerings are offered to and the response is a kind of beyond-words shrug, as if the answer is both obvious and ineffable.

Sam can find birthday ramen anywhere (and happy 14th birthday!)

All of which is long-winded preamble to say: yesterday we took a taxi to Uluwatu Temple and spent a pleasant few hours wandering along the cliffs and into the temple complex, watching the surfers below and finally taking in a traditional dance performance just as the sun set over the Indian Ocean. Along the way, we were struck by the gorgeous views and by the somewhat rickety nature of the cliff walk. Brian noted it “probably” wouldn’t fall into the ocean while we strode across. But we were also struck by the generic nature of the temple itself; if this was a Hindu temple there certainly wasn’t any obvious Hindu iconography. No signage whatsoever about who built the temple, and to whom and when and why. Trying to read about the temple online is oddly unhelpful; the vast majority of sites that mention it are tourist blogs and these variously describe the temple, which everyone agrees was built in the 11th century or maybe started earlier and maybe extended later, as serving either as a portal to heaven, a place where the Hindu trinity merges into a single divine presence, or the petrified barque of a water deity. Likely best not to insist on excessive specificity which frankly suited us just fine; the temple, just as it was, was spectacular.

Joe takes in the view from the temple walk

But there was one topic on which the temple was well-signed: the place was lousy with warnings about the hundreds of macaques who live in the forest around the temple complex. So I shouldn't have been surprised when, as we walked back along the cliff edge, a monkey dropped down from a tree to land heavily on my left shoulder and, in a flash, reached a sneaky hand around to grab my glasses from my face. The monkey then jumped from my shoulder to a nearby balustrade. He sat there on the railing, holding my glasses at arms’ length. This next part is literally hazy for me, deprived of my glasses as I was, but the monkey proceeded to nibble on the ear pieces of my glasses, then try them on. “Take a picture,” I hissed at Brian.

Brian’s only monkey shot from Uluwatu temple

“Not sure I want to take my phone out right now,” he replied, eyeing the trees above, which were filled with monkeys. And neither of us was keen to challenge that monkey for my glasses. Fortunately, a temple employee came to my rescue. With the weariness of someone who has played out this same scene countless times before, the temple employee tossed the bespectacled monkey a small packet of fresh fruit. In response the monkey immediately dropped my glasses contemptuously over the cliff side of the railing, freeing both hands to enjoy his sweet prize. The temple employee fished my glasses out from the tall grass where they had fallen while Brian complained sotto voce about rewarding misbehavior.

Sarongs were required for entrance to the temple — and helpfully supplied

Glasses gnawed but firmly back on my face, we made our way to the auditorium where the kecak and fire dance was held. This sunset performance turned out to be the highlight of our visit. The dance isn’t set to music but instead to the percussion of a chorus of about 50 Balinese men chanting in unison. The dance tells a traditional story of an abduction and rescue, replete with heroes, villains, a suicide attempt, various monkey antics (sounds right) and a dramatic escape climax involving quite a lot of fire.

In which Brian grossly overpays for fruit

Boogie Board Surfing