February 18, 2012
This semester I am studying with a non-NYU study abroad site in Bali, an island in Indonesia labeled by many an anthropologist as a last paradise. The scenery is stunning, and rather than walking to class from Broome with taxis honking and the subway rumbling under my feet, I walk to class with roosters crowing and stray dogs barking at me. At night, I fall asleep to geckos making that classic GECK-oh-GECK-oh noise as oppose to ambulances, more honking, and the random early morning straggler shouting outside of Brinkley’s. Rather than a dorm, I am living with a host family in a small town outside of the deemed cultural center Ubud called Bedulu. In a perfect world, both the guava tree in my yard here and Eileen’s cheesecake down the street could co-exist, but alas it is probably for the best to lay off the Plato Julia at LaEsquina and instead enjoy nasi goreng (fried rice in Bahasa Indonesia, Indonesia’s national language) for a semester. Similarly, however much I love taking Kimmel take out to Washington Square Park, it does not beat drinking young coconut (literally, a coconut picked from a tree with a straw poked into it) on Pantai Pasir Putih, a white sand beach in northeastBali.
One of the most beautiful things about Bali that I have taken note of so far in the three weeks that I have been here are the beautiful offerings left in various shrines, at store fronts, along the street, and in houses. Bali is where Indonesia’s main Hindu population resides, and because of this, the culture differs greatly from Indonesia’s most Muslim population. Part of this Hindu culture is the offerings for the Niskala, or rather the unseen / evil-spirit-populated world, left daily. Balinese culture is all about balance, and therefore if there is a seeing world (the world we all presently live in) called sekala, there is also the unseen counterpart. What can be considered good if there is no bad? What is a traditional healer if there is not good and black magic?
The daily offerings, offerings that my host grandmother spends minimum two hours on in the evenings for the following day, appease the evil spirits of the Niskala world.There are many different types of offerings, small and large. The most common offerings are leaves twisted into a flower shape with actual colorful flowersplaced on top. A more intricate version of this offering is this flower shape placed on top of a basket with flowers in it as well. Many of the offerings will also include pink incense sticks burning on top. My host-grandma leaves very small offerings of rice on leaves along the walkways and entrances allover my Balinese home-compound (most Balinese “houses” actually comprise of many different small houses together on one property).
There is a real fear, nonetheless, that the art of offeringmaking will be lost because Bali’s younger generation would rather spend time on Facebook and their blackberries than make offerings. There are also complaints that making the offerings are extremely gendered (very true—you will never see a man making the offerings) and keep women from being able to be partof the “modern” workforce. Although beautiful, many fear that having numerous offerings is on the way out for Bali’s future.
Hindu religion here in Bali especially is so intertwined with the culture and daily life—ten times more than New York where people practice many different religions. Interestingly, neighboring island Java (and the majority of the rest of Indonesia’s 3,000 plus islands) is mostly Muslim, and although geographically close, the different religions create completely different cultures. Although this has created much conflict in the past, notably with Kuta’s (Bali’s most touristy beach area in the south) 2002 and 2005 bombings, in day-to-day life, Indonesian people are some of the friendliest and most welcoming people I have met.
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