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Little Balinese colonials in the carving at Pura Beji |
A bit drained from all the
excitement of the day before, we drove eastward along the north coast
for Singaraja, the Dutch center of power during their occupation of
Indonesia in the first half of the 20th c. Only here is there a
trace of western influence, and that scanty. Rather more obvious is
a brilliant red Chinese Buddhist temple at the old Dutch harbor, now
a series of restaurants on stilts. The Three Dharma Chinese temple is
garishly painted and immaculately kept, with turtles climbing in and
out of bronze pots in the courtyard. The three dharmas are: Taoism,
represented by the Yin Yang symbol, Confucianism as a gold bell, and
the swastika representing Buddhism, along with Quan Yin. Far better
explained and more hospitable than any Balinese temple we'd been to,
it's worth a stop.
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Slack-breasted gods of death, Pura Dalem |
We drove out into the steamy
countryside to Pura Beji, a beautiful temple dedicated to Sri Dewi
who protects rice and irrigated agriculture. Ornate carvings
(including two small statues of colonially dressed Balinese string
players) stand tall amidst rice fields of a staggering humidity.
Down a pathway was the Pura Dalem, the cemetery temple, perched among
glowing rice. Nearly every village has a Pura Dalem, this one with
ferocious descending gods that crushed human heads, and ferocious
slack-breasted goddesses of death.
Utterly wilting after a few
more temples, we drove on to the smooth cool spring of Air Sanih,
along a beautiful stretch of seaside road, where I swam in the fresh
waters.
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The Dutchman who introduced the bicycle to Bali | at Pura Maduwe Karang |
We drove past snorkeling and
deep sea diving resorts, funky and beautifully tucked along the shore
with their gardens and bungalows, where the ship US Liberty lies
broken beneath the water, a favorite of deep sea divers. We reached
our night's destination, the beloved resort town of Amed, at first
dispiriting with its clutter of closely spaced hotels sharing
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Spring at Air Sanih |
shallow
pebbly beaches. This legendary stretch of the east coast has higher
prices than we had seen, and they don't bargain. Beachfront hotel
rooms start at $78, the ones across the road at $40. We drove in to
the next village of Jemeluk up a hill that rises over the sea past
plush looking hotels where families sprawled around low tables,
sometimes in a fevered, crowded luxury.
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Our bungalow at Amed |
Bungalows, even at the beach
front, were cheaper so we finally settled on one lush with tropical
gardens ($40 a night), a pool and a gate to the pebbly beach where in
darkness Jacques and I glided through warm currents under a half
moon, invisible to each other in the black waters. Gamelan and other
music drifted from the various hotels along the beach. In the sparse
light of the jungle garden masseuses worked on 2 girls in front of
the ornately painted wood carving of a bungalow. It is a kind of
paradise. But, fatally, the AC stopped working at 2am!
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Amed |
We rose (in the absolutely
airless bunglow) for a brilliant dawn and the coastal road with
exquisite views of the indigo sea, a transparent emerald when you
look straight down the volcanic coastline. This entire region is
called Amed, much less visited than the south, but its guests often
stay for weeks. Only strips of jungle and a few tethered black goats
stood between us and the sea as we rounded the coastline. In former
days the bridges had been made of only coconut logs, and Wayan kept
fearing he would have had to turn back.
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Palace at Amlapura |
After the ravishing detour
we joined the city of Amlapura, a
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Monument in Denpasar: Royal family walking into Dutch musket fire |
former Dutch center of power, whose
acquiescent king, Anak Agung Agung Anglurah Ketut Karangasem, had
curried much favor with his Dutch overlords. (By contrast, when the
Dutch arrived in the late 19th and early 20th c many royal families
famously donned their ritual best and walked straight into Dutch
musket fire, flouting their jewelry.) One of his palaces is a museum,
with remnants of the old way of life, a Europeanized elegance, now
shabby, with old photographs of the Royal Family. The palace across
the road is still in use by the Royal family. Young teenage boys
were lounging on a pavilion, playing guitar. They sat up abruptly
when we arrived, and one member of the Royal family escorted us
through the decaying compound, trying to sneak pictures of us.
Generally members of the Royal family live in Denpasar or Jakarta for
the high government posts.
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Tirta Gangga |
The more beautiful of the
water palaces built by the king of Karangasem is Tirta Gangga,
colorful with riotous blossoms, fantastic statuary, cement lotus pads
on which you can walk through the fountains, intricate pathways and
bridgese. Many Balinese swam in the swimming pools or sat in
couples. One very thin old woman washed her clothes in the canal.