Bliss in Bali

With its lush tropical greenery, white sandy beaches and the 'Eat Pray Love' phenomenon, it's easy to see why tourists are flocking to the Indonesian island, writes ROSE DOYLE

THERE IS MORE to Bali than meets the eye, which is saying something because the eye is instantly met by the delights of tropical greens and rainbows of frangipani, by white sandy beaches and volcanic mountains and, all the time and everywhere, by the sinewy, throbbing bursts of colour that are Balinese dancers celebrating life and the island’s Hindu gods.

But get out of bed a few hours earlier than your fellow Bali travellers (and there are many of these) and you’ll see the island awaken to an unearthly mist, catch the slow rising gold of its just-below-the-equator sun and the dreaming peace of its terraced padi fields. You can watch and mingle as villages and temples come to life with early morning offerings and, if you’re on the coast, be a part of the Indian Ocean as it stretches endlessly into another day.

Hang around, the bed will wait, and you’ll soon make the acquaintance of sneaky monkeys and chattering geckos and privileged water buffalo cultivating the art of indolence. The markets are great at this time of day, while everything and everyone’s fresh and enjoyable, and before heat and humidity take their toll. Birds sing, traffic’s at a minimum (for Bali) and Balinese coffee, hot and strong, is served in generous potfuls. All this as well as the smiling company of the Balinese people, patiently and courteously welcoming and seemingly glad to have you visit their island.

And why, on the face of it, wouldn’t they be? Bali, since it was “rediscovered” by steamship travellers and opened its first tourist hotel in 1926, has become fabled and idealised in a changing world. Balinese Hindus (at 96 per cent the majority religion by far) believe their gods love beauty and the island’s exotica, beauty and dance were made known to a searching, between-the-wars world by the unlikely grouping of Balinese Prince Tjorkorda Gede Agung Sukawati, German artist Walter Spies and Dutch painter Rudolf Bonnet. Spies in particular, by dint of hard work and harder play and in thrall to Balinese fine arts, shaped the island’s image as a paradise on earth.

The island hasn’t looked back and, apart from serious dips following the 2002 and 2005 bombings, its tourist figures have been ever growing. Growing too much, perhaps. With a 3.8m visitor figure for the first half of last year, paralysing traffic and endemic building the island’s newish and popular governor, Made Pastika, is taking steps to avoid an overcooked tourist industry.

And now the Eat Pray Love phenomenon has hit Bali and thousands, seeking spiritual and romantic well-being, are beating a path to the Ubud garden home of author Elizabeth Gilbert’s (Julia Roberts in the version filmed in Ubud) modest 95-year-old guru Ketut Liyer. Mr Liyer sees everyone he can, is charming as all get out, charges those who have it $60 (€43) and has put up a sign reading, “From Ubud To Hollywood”.

None of this has affected the genuine pleasures of Ubud, Bali’s heart and cultural soul. Ubud is where you’ll find the best of dancers and jewellery makers, museums and markets and restaurants so darkly wonderful you could forget to eat.

But here I must reveal a card of privilege: my trip was sponsored by the Indonesian Government and my travelling companion one Dr Fiona Kerlogue, anthropologist and curator at the Horniman Museum, London. Something of an honorary Balinese, she was generous to a fault with her (vast) knowledge of the island. Hanging onto her coat-tails I got to meet Ubud’s Prince Tjokorda Gede Putra Sukawati, involved like his father with the island’s culture, took tea in the glittering inner regions of the royal palace, saw mask makers at work, and wood carvers.

I enjoyed the exhilarating spectacle of the best of Balinese dance, met the Bali Aga people of Tenganan village (descendants of the original Balinese) and learned to successfully and gently bargain in Ubud’s market. I even picked up a few words of Balinese – much appreciated though most people speak or understand English.

DANCE IS essential to the Bali way of life. There are many different kinds, and many gods made flesh in the spectacle, but each in its different way is about the battle between good (the Barong) and bad (the Rangda) and the need for balance between the two. Dancers use every bone and nerve in their body and every move and colour and sound has meaning.

You can enjoy the best of dancing every night of the week in Ubud. Add to the pleasure by booking for a performance in Ubud Palace, then psyche yourself up by exploring traditional and ornate buildings in the compound beforehand.

The Museum Puri Lukisan in Ubud is a relaxing, and quite lovely place. Full of paintings and woodcarvings, it gives a fine overview of Balinese art and the 1930s movement which put it out there for the rest of us to enjoy.

The Kecak/Monkey Dance is, for my money, not to be missed. It takes place at sunset on the southwestern tip of the island’s peninsula, in the grounds of Uluwatu temple. The temple itself, dedicated to the spirits of the sea, is jaw-droppingly perched atop a sheer cliff below which the wildest surf, and latter-day sea worshipping surf boarders, ride the waves of the Indian Ocean.

The Kecak has fire (literally) and rhythm and the voices of up to 100 bare-chested men and boys beating out a pulsating, monkey-like chant. There’s a touch of pantomime about it, and much drama as daylight dims and firelight takes over. Beware the tribes of sneaky monkeys as you make your way to the amphitheatre; one managed to whip a companion’s glasses off his nose. From behind.

Visiting Tenganan village and the Bali Aga was like stepping out of life for a few hours. There’s a terrifying simplicity about life in the double row of small houses; terrifying because of the questions you’ll ask yourself about progress and tolerance.

The Bali Aga are a tight community, living more or less as their ancestors did, weaving beautiful cloth and making finely details crafts in the traditional way. Everything is for sale, and reasonably priced too.

There are no end of temples on Bali and everything you’ve heard about them is true. Relentlessly inspiring, sometimes frightening in their carved, stony splendour, there’s a humbling reality too in the poverty of people living in the shadow of many. Large, historic paces of worship apart, every family in Bali has its own temple, as does every village.

IF STEAMING jungle and mountainy climes get to your inner claustrophobic you can make for the coast; Bali is nothing if not diverse. Infamous Kuta is what it is: a resort filled with the sort of clubs and bars and traffic jams you can reach in a couple of hours flight from Dublin. I settled for Sanur, a coastal town beginning to burgeon but not there yet, a place where you can spend your time traipsing the sandy edges of the Indian Ocean, making sorties to markets or crowded streets when the mood takes you.

Museum Le Mayeur is in Sanur, a rambling, beachfront house filled with the work of Belgian artist Adrien Jean Le Mayeur de Merpes. The house is his story; it’s where he set up home and lived with his wife Ni Pollok, a 15-year-old Legong dancer he met when he was 52. There’s a careless exotica about the place, with its many fine Le Mayeur works and poignant black-and-white photographs of Ni Pollok.

It’s a long way from here to Bali and there’s a lot to see and do when you get there. You could maximise the pleasure by taking an en route break in London, specifically at the Horniman Museum to see the exhibition of Balinese dance and culture curated by Dr Fiona Kerlogue.

Bali – Dancing for the Gods will run for nine months beginning on April 16th, and give you a chance to see masks and dance costumes, hear a Balinese gamelon orchestra as well as live performances and take part in workshops if you time it right. There are more than 4,000 photographs and a film to be seen too; a “visual feast” Dr Kerlogue calls it.

I was in Bali during the steaming wet season, which was less crowded than the gloriously sunny and dry months from May to October. Bali is hot all the year round, and always and uniquely itself.

Get there

Malaysia Airlines (malaysia airlines.com) flies from London Heathrow to Bali via Kuala Lumpur. British Airways (ba.com) flies from London Heathrow to Bali via Singapore.

Bali where to . . .

Stay

* The Royal Pita Maha and its sister resort hotel, the Pita Maha outside Ubud, are the ultimate in luxury and service. Surrounding rivers, gorges and padi fields are put to the service of guests, rooms are villa-style and many have their own pool. You can enjoy yoga, meditation, traditional Balinese therapies and a dip in a mountain spring. Rates from $450 (€324) per night. pitamaha-bali.com

* Homestay Rumah Roda, in a quiet corner of Ubud, is fun and welcoming. The Roda family is large and inclusive; rooms are named after its many grandchildren. Rooms from about €25 per night (breakfast included) and a guided early morning padi field walk costs about €10. rumahroda.com.

* La Taverna Hotel, in coastal Sanur, is a grouping of 36 rooms in traditional thatched bungalows set in lush, tropical gardens edging the Indian Ocean beach. Privately owned and run by an Italian family since the 1960s, the Balinese staff are delightful. Rooms (including breakfast) cost from $60 (€43) per night. latavernahotel.com.

Eat

* Lamak, on Monkey Forest Road, Ubud, serves good food and is fascinating as well. Owned by German chef Roland Satay Lilit, its reputation has grown since it opened in 2002. Try the Balinese Bouillabaisse, or a taster menu from about $40 (€29). lamakbali.com.

* Cafe Lotus, in the centre of Ubud next to the royal palace, is an institution. Open air, with a lotus pond in front of a temple, it is the place to see and be seen. More expensive than most Ubud eateries, with main courses from about €15, it serves Italian, Asian and local specialities. lotus-restaurants.com.

* Murni’s Warung, Jl Raya Campuan, has been called the Harry’s Bar of Bali and serves good food. Overlooking a deep gorge and tumbling river, it has been on the go for 37 years. This is the place to try Bebek-Betutu, a Balinese duck dish. A meal, without wine, costs about €35. murnis.com.

* Cafe Batu Jimbar, on Jolan Danau Tamblingan, Sanur, is the darkly interesting sort of sidewalk cafe where, not so long ago, you’d have expected to meet spies. Eating under the trees you can enjoy salads, light meals, good coffee and fresh juices. There is the equivalent of a Balinese off-licence nearby, useful since wine is not universally served. This is changing, however, now that Bali (with Australian guidance) has started making its own wine.

Go

* Temples: Too many to be definitive but a couple not to miss are Besakih Temple, in east Bali. The island’s mother temple it exudes history and the spiritual in spite of hassle from hawkers. Tanah Lot, a venerated island/ sea temple on the west coast, also retains integrity despite the commercial onslaught.

* Kertha Gosa. The one-time Halls of Justice are part of the Taman Kertha Gosa complex in the regional capital of Klungkung Semarapura. An open-sided pavilion, the ceilings are covered in acutely, often painfully, detailed drawings of crimes and their punishments. Not for the faint-hearted.

Getting around

Bali has no public transport, which accounts for the huge number of mopeds and bikes on the roads. The way to get around is by taxi – you’ll find drivers offering their services everywhere. I was lucky to find Wayan Sadra, a man of immense knowledge, endless patience and a great driver. The charge is about €30 a day. Tel: 00-62-81-558-656-411.