The affable and patient Mr Nyoman (we later learnt there are probably a million Nyomans in Bali) acted as our guide and driver for our stint on the island. On his advice, we jettisoned our plan to head eastwards on Friday towards Sidemen (festival on Pura Besakih = heavy traffic) and instead went northwards towards Munduk. The itinerary looked pretty balanced, comprising as it did a waterfall, rice terraces and two temples (one in the lowlands and the other in the highlands).
In reality, geography decided what and how much we could see in a day's driving. Many of Bali's roads followed its rivers along a north-south axis. These rivers, tumbling either northwards and southwards from the central volcanic uplands, carved out many steep-sided valleys which in turn impeded latitudinal travel. (We experienced this first-hand in Ubud, as the road from downtown Ubud back to Taman Bebek lay astride these river valleys.)
Geography also contributed to the political fragmentation of pre-colonial Bali. Bangli, Klungklung and Tabanan are familiar names on the Balinese tourist circuit, and were once kingdoms that vied with each other for control over the island. Pura Tanah Ayun at Mengwi, just west of Ubud, was built by one of these kingdoms. Balinese temple compounds were divided into three areas - outer, middle and inner realms - which are meant to replicate how the Hindus perceive the cosmos are arranged. Closed to tourists, the main temple in Pura Taman Ayun stood in the inner realm, where it is believed the wandering gods often descended to rest. Inside rose the first of the many meru we would see inside Balinese temples - thatched pagoda-like structures which is meant to symbolize Mount Meru, the abode of the Hindu gods. A wall and a moat ran around the main temple, as did an unending stream of tourists.
Below: Balinese skyscapes at Pura Tanah Ayun
From Mengwi we headed north, upslope and right from brilliant sunshine into gathering cloud. Our destination was Melanting Falls near Munduk. Melanting plunged down a smooth rock face fringed with luxuriant greenery. From the road it took between ten to fifteen minutes to descend to the falls. The falls had been swollen by intermittent showers that afternoon, and the fear of a sudden downpour had us advancing down the path like Greek hoplites, with opened umbrellas for burnished bucklers.
Below: with Mr Nyoman at Air Terjun Melanting, the only attraction where rain isn't a dampener
We retraced our steps towards Lake Bratan to visit the famous floating temple of Pura Ulun Danu Bratan. Another showery spell later on meant an extended lunch at a restaurant on the temple grounds. Built by the erstwhile kingdom of Mengwi (even before Pura Tanah Ayun), this was one of two main water temples on Bali. Lake Bratan is one source of irrigation, regulated strictly in the past by the temple's priesthood, for Bali's fabled rice terraces. The stream of tourists we encountered at Mengwi grew into a torrent here, which nobody regulated.
Below: Pura Ulun Danu Bratan
We continued our downstream course towards the rice terraces of Jatiluwih, fed by the springs of Gunung Batukaru and painstakingly carved out of the rolling hills by the endeavour of many Balinese hands. Art and science, split so neatly in our heavily Westernised curricula, combined here beautifully in the intricacies of an irrigation system complex enough to slake the unquenchable thirst of terraced earth.
Below: Jatiluwih, where rice fields glow
It is hard to imagine the scarcity of water in such a seemingly well-watered island as Bali. But population growth, the corresponding increase in the acreage brought under plow and an unrelenting influx of tourists (today close to an estimated eight million a year, both foreign and domestic) have contributed to this critical shortage. Everybody wants to drink from the rivers of paradise. Nobody ever thinks it might ever run dry one day.
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