Enchanted by Bali

The first time I went to Bali was relatively recently, I think around 2003. My research field is acoustic informatics, and I specialize in what is known as digital recording. One day, I heard a CD of Gamelan (Balinese folk music) with a wonderful recording. It really captured the atmosphere and the sense of air of the place.

I wanted to hear this in person. It was a group called Tirta Sari, and it seemed they had recorded it in Peliatan, near Ubud. When I looked into it, I found out it was a group owned by the Peliatan royalty and managed by Keiko Mandera, a Japanese woman who had married into the Ubud royal family in the 1990s, so I decided to go.

She is a truly wonderful person. She chartered the group for us, and for just my wife and me, a group of over 30 musicians and about 20 dancers performed with total sincerity. I was deeply moved.

That sounds wonderful.

That was the catalyst for my friendship with Keiko Mandera.

Also, when I was at Keio's Faculty of Business and Commerce, I spent all my time taking photos in the camera club instead of studying. I've continued with photography since then, and I traveled to Bali because I wanted to take photos of Ubud. I might have been there more than 20 times now.

My first time in Bali was a sightseeing trip with three friends from the end of 1986, the year I graduated from university, through New Year's of the following year. I went knowing almost nothing other than that it was called the "Island of Gods and the Arts."

But from the moment I landed at the small airport in Denpasar, the sweet scent of flowers wafted through the air, and I felt a sense of wonder, like I had entered an exotic, different dimension, thinking, "Where am I?"

It was about a five-day sightseeing trip, but even when I went to see the dances, the sound of the gamelan resonated in my head like "kanton, kanton," and the dancers' movements were so glamorous. I was truly drawn in by the feeling of having wandered into a mysterious, different space.

And after that, you began covering it as a journalist?

When I became a freelance writer, I wanted to introduce things about Indonesia, so I went to Java next. Then, as I continued my coverage, I decided to study Indonesian properly if I was going to interview local people, so I went to study abroad in a city called Malang in East Java in '97.

It was around that time that I learned about the "Kris," a mysterious dagger passed down in Java and Bali. It's a dagger that has been handed down as a family heirloom inhabited by divine power, but behind that mystery, their philosophy of life is alive.

So, I decided to start reporting for a book on how the spirituality of the Javanese and Balinese people who inherit such culture was supporting them during the turbulent times when the Suharto regime collapsed and the country moved toward democratization. So, from around '98, I started visiting not only Java but Bali again as well.

Originally, this dagger, the "Kris," was born in Java. However, the Majapahit Kingdom, a Hindu kingdom that had built a great empire in East Java, was destroyed by the invasion of Islamic forces in the 16th century, and they fled to Bali to protect their religion and culture. At that time, they also took the "Kris," the treasure of the kingdom, to Bali.

Therefore, for me, Bali became a place to search for the glory of the Majapahit Kingdom—its lingering scent—which can no longer be seen in Java.

As a research subject, I have been doing Javanese history for a long time, and I first went to Bali for sightseeing. The first time was in 1972. That was about 45 years ago. At that time, there were almost no hotels, and a guesthouse on the beach in Kuta let me stay for one dollar a night. The guests were Westerners, mostly people referred to as hippies.

I experienced a truly quiet Bali in a one-dollar-a-night guesthouse.

It's completely different from now.

At night, the coast was pitch black. The stars were so beautiful; it's unimaginable from the Kuta of today.

My involvement outside of tourism began in 2004, when I moved the destination of the Keio Faculty of Economics seminar trip from a village in Java to a village in Bali. We decided to do a homestay at a farmhouse in a village that was truly in the middle of nowhere, not a so-called tourist spot, about 45 minutes by bus toward Denpasar from a town called Negara in the west.

It happened that a professor at Udayana University in Bali was from there, and he made the arrangements, saying it would be good because it wasn't contaminated by tourism. I took seminar students there every year, and I thought about stopping when I reached retirement age, but the younger students asked, "Professor, is the seminar going away?" so I'm still continuing it today (laughs).

As I kept visiting Bali, my acquaintances increased, and I was able to see various things. I was particularly moved by being shown a large public cremation (photo).

When the mother of Cokorda, a member of the Ubud royalty, passed away, I received an invitation and was able to see everything from the inside and take photos. I thought, this is amazing. They spend a tremendous amount of money. I started thinking about Balinese culture and why they spend so much money on this.

Cremation in Bali is an important religious event. At the students' homestay locations, they experience various rituals, of course, including cremations. It just so happens that there is a large cremation in that village this year.

When you think of Bali, the unique culture of Balinese Hinduism is indeed charming. When the Majapahit Kingdom fell in the 16th century and people fled from Java to Bali, a high priest named Nirartha also crossed over to Bali. He is a saint said to have founded the ritual of "purification by holy water" and laid the foundation of Balinese Hinduism.

He possessed great divine power, and after landing in Bali, he is said to have traveled through villages where epidemics were spreading, making holy water while chanting mantras and sprinkling it on people to cure their illnesses. Therefore, there are many villages and temples related to Nirartha on Bali. Mas Village, famous for wood carving, is one of them.

I see.

Nirartha also brought court culture, literature, music, and dance dramas inherited in Java to Bali. In this way, a magnificent Hindu culture blossomed in Bali. While Hindus make up only 1 or 2% of the population in Indonesia as a whole, Bali is the only place that has protected that culture to the end.

Balinese Hinduism is visually beautiful in its rituals and so on, and it also values the balance and harmony between everything visible and invisible. That spiritual world is its charm, isn't it?

All the people I am currently friends with are Hindus in the true sense of the word. For example, people who become Protestant Christians in Japan make a confession of faith after they reach the age of reason, are baptized, and become Christians, but Balinese Hindus are not like that; they are Hindus the moment they are born.

Actually, what I am most interested in right now is that all of those people believe in reincarnation.

That's true.

Moreover, reincarnation does not aim for "liberation" (moksha) as in Buddhism, but is a regenerative type of reincarnation. They believe they are the reincarnation of a relative from several generations ago. And they believe that when they die, they will be reborn as someone in their paternal family. So, there is a sense that they are not very afraid of dying.

However, to ensure that reincarnation, they must believe in God and serve God. In short, they absolutely must participate in festivals and perform all the rites of passage.

Especially, it's the final way of dying. How to clean the impurity of death and be allowed to ascend to heaven. That is how to cremate the deceased and send them off to heaven. That's why they have to spend a tremendous amount of money on cremations.

A member of the Peliatan royalty I am currently acquainted with, Anak Agung Gede Bagus Mandera, is over 70 years old now, but he says that when he was a child, the servants did everything for him, and he had never even put on his own socks. Recently, he gets into arguments with his children, and when they tell him, "Father, if you do things like that, you won't be able to reincarnate," he apparently gets discouraged (laughs).

Balinese Hindus participate very properly in everything, whether it's Odalan (temple anniversary festivals) or anything else. They make offerings properly every day. They pray every day. I have a feeling that one reason for this is that they believe in reincarnation.

In Bali, they place offerings on the roads and such every day, right? But they don't mind at all if they are run over by a car afterward. They believe that as soon as the offering is placed, God takes the contents, so it's fine to step on it or anything. From our perspective, it's a bit strange.

But they do it day after day. It's hard work. This is a ritual, and they think that if they don't fulfill it, they surely won't be able to be reincarnated. It must be a norm for life, a norm for how to live.

During rituals, they go to the coast for various reasons to wash treasures. Also, most final cremations are at the seaside, aren't they?

At the very end, the bones are cast into the sea.

Dance was originally a Hindu religious ceremony to be offered to God, so everyone dances with the desire to please God. Even with wood carving, they decorate temple walls and gates, and the performing arts have developed with everything being for God.

Gamelan is also originally meant to please God.

I have taken one symbolic photo. This is in a so-called house temple within the Peliatan royal palace, where someone is dancing Baris alone. No one is watching, but actually, God is watching.

God has already descended here and is watching. The dancer at that time was a young boy, but he was very good. He was performing with such intensity. Not because he was performing in front of people, but because he was dancing in front of God.

I don't know anything technical, but I make sure the students I take, both boys and girls, always learn Balinese dance, even if only for a week. All the children in the village dance so well. And besides the teacher, other children come and help teach together.

So, they really learn it naturally from the time they are children.

It's not like taking lessons; it's a part of life.

For example, even in the Tirta Sari group, the people dancing there are true professionals, but they aren't making money from it. They are people chosen by God. Most children want to be like that, but only the children who can truly dance remain.

According to legend, in the 8th century, a high Hindu priest named Rsi Markandeya crossed from East Java to Mount Agung in Bali with 500 villagers. They are said to be the first settlers of Bali.

However, at first, the villagers became ill, attacked by epidemics and evil spirits. So, Rsi Markandeya returned to Java once, meditated, and then came to Bali again. That place is Campuhan, where two rivers meet, just west of Ubud.

And because holy water gushed out there and bathing in it cured illnesses, he built a temple on the banks of that river. That is Pura Gunung Lebah, which is said to be the birthplace of Ubud.

The name Ubud also comes from the Balinese word "Ubad," which means healing or medicine. So, Ubud originally has the meaning of a "place of healing."

I also heard this story from Cokorda Raka Kerthyasa, who plays a role like a spokesperson for the Ubud Royal Palace.

He's a relative of Cokorda, isn't he?

Yes. And I also participated in the Odalan at Pura Gunung Lebah, where various dances are offered during the festival. Unlike the dances performed for tourists, you can really feel the local atmosphere and the deep meaning of the dance.

That's exactly right.

When I participated in the Odalan at Pura Gunung Lebah in 2009, they were doing Kecak Cewek, that is, a female Kecak dance. Usually, Kecak is performed by men, right?

I was surprised and asked the local people, and they said that Kecak Cewek started in 2008. Moreover, it was produced by Mr. Anom, who is famous for the Baris dance of the Semara Ratih ensemble.

When I spoke to Mr. Anom himself, he told me that since we are now in a global era and women's activities are increasing, he thought women should be able to participate equally in Balinese dance, so he started the female Kecak. He said that by evolving in this way, Balinese traditional arts shine even brighter.

Naturally, things will change adaptively with the times. I think you really have to see the authentic ones during festivals.

Bali fell under Dutch rule in the early 1900s, so from around then, ports were finally developed and transportation became more convenient, and the Dutch started coming, but the peak was surely the 1930s. Not only the Dutch, but Mexicans, Germans, and various other people started coming.

Many artists came to Bali, didn't they?

Yes, that's right. Moreover, they all stayed for a long time and formed strong bonds with the local royal families. Therefore, it's even said that Balinese culture was created by Westerners; they took what was originally there and reshaped it to be suitable for tourism.

The Kecak dance was also originally an exorcism ritual, but in the 1930s, Walter Spies (a German painter) combined it with the "Ramayana Story" and created it as a dance for viewing.

The father of Keiko Mandera's husband, with whom I am close, was the one who organized a Gamelan dance troupe in the 1930s and took them to the Paris Expo in France. I heard that while that father was still alive, he took a liking to Keiko and said he wanted her to marry his son, and so they married.

There is a hotel called the Campuhan Hotel in Campuhan, and I heard that the place where Spies was given a room by the King of Ubud is now that hotel.

In this way, many Westerners came to live in Campuhan. Mr. Kerthyasa also told me, "Healing gives inspiration, that's why many artists settled here."

So I thought, as a writer, maybe I'll soak up a little healing before I go back (laughs). The forest of Campuhan is a truly wonderful place, with fresh air, the sound of birds chirping, mountains and valleys, and terraced rice fields.

That's true.

And I've heard that Balinese painting changed as Balinese people were taught perspective by Spies and others.

In the 1930s, a tourism industry began to sprout in Bali for a time due to Western influence, but it was completely crushed during the Japanese occupation during the war.

Then, when the Japanese occupation ended with the conclusion of the war, the so-called War of Independence followed until 1949. This was intense in Bali. The Balinese people were split into two sides—those who sided with the Dutch and those who sided with the independence movement—and actually, those who sided with the Dutch were greater in number. The royal families had been close to Europe in various ways for a long time. Therefore, a Dutch puppet state was established in Bali.

Because of that bitter history, hard feelings remained even when Indonesia was recognized as an independent country. Just as those feelings were finally starting to fade, the September 30th Movement occurred.

Was there a massacre in Bali as well?

That's right. It was when I was having a casual conversation at the place where I always stay for my homestay program. It's a house along the coast, and when the conversation turned to the September 30th Movement, they said, "Oh, there are many buried over there on that beach, too." By "buried," they meant the bodies of those who were massacred.

That was 1965, right?

Yes. It was when Sukarno fell.

Because they were said to be members of the Communist Party.

Massacres occurred all over the country. Everyone thought that such things didn't happen in peaceful Bali, but they did.

I have never heard that from the Balinese people I associate with. Perhaps they are avoiding the topic.

Usually, it was said that Bali was safe, but they would say quite nonchalantly, "No, there were many massacres in this village, too."

I realized this was a serious matter—that such terrible things had happened even in the village where we stay every year. Then I started hearing stories like, "So-and-so's grandfather was on the side that did the killing," or "So-and-so's grandfather was killed." Since it's a small village, both sides live together peacefully now.

Since I've been bringing students here every year, I decided to investigate this myself, and I've just finished writing a book about it.

I have heard many such stories in Java. When I was studying abroad, a university professor's hometown was in Banyuwangi, and I heard that in that village, people became Buddhists to avoid being suspected of being communists. But I haven't heard about it in Bali either.

I see. I've been chasing those kinds of raw stories. When people think of Bali, they only have an image of a beautiful paradise, and I used to have that image too, but there is also that dark side.

It's the unknown Bali. That was 50 years ago.

Is it around after that that the hippies started coming?

Yes. It was the end of the 60s. Until then, there was no airport in Bali. I believe the current Ngurah Rai Airport was built in '68. There was a small airport before the war, but Japan turned it into a military airfield and left it in a state where it was unusable, and it stayed that way for a long time.

When deciding what to use Japan's war reparations money for, Sukarno said that for this country to earn dollars, it needed tourism along with oil, and he built a hotel in Bali. That was the Bali Beach Hotel, which is said to be the first international-class hotel in Bali.

The September 30th Movement occurred while this was under construction. Then, once the incident settled down, the hotel was completed, the airport was built, and the hippies came. Also, the Dutch people who used to be there started making nostalgic trips now that things had calmed down. It feels like the Japanese started going there a bit later.

It was in the 90s that Japanese people really started going in large numbers.

In terms of numbers, that's probably true.

People had started going in the 80s, but in my experience, the 90s saw a Bali boom to the point where every magazine was doing a Bali special. That dropped off sharply with the 1997 Asian financial crisis.

So, when I went to Bali in 1998, it was right under the influence of the financial crisis, and Kuta Beach was in a state where there wasn't a single person. It recovered a bit after that, but then the terrorist attacks happened in 2002. When I went for a magazine interview the following year, there wasn't a single tourist on Monkey Forest Road in Ubud.

That's right. Because of those things, the tourism industry in Bali gets crushed. It always takes a huge hit from even small things.

In that case, there must be a sense of just having to endure it.

It's like waiting for people to forget. Once they do, it always makes a comeback.

It was the same during the eruption of Mount Agung starting last November, wasn't it?

Yes, tourists didn't come at all during last year's Christmas and New Year's.

In that sense, I think the hotels in Bali have it quite tough.

However, setting aside the Japanese, the total number of tourists now is enormous. In particular, the number of Chinese tourists is increasing.

Yes, there are Chinese signs everywhere.

When I went last year, there were so many people on Kuta Beach that I wondered, "Are there really this many people?" Ubud was also full of tourists. I heard they are tearing down rice paddies to build hotels one after another.

Actually, the number of foreigners visiting Bali is now about 5.7 million per year. The year after the 2002 terrorist attacks, it fell below 1 million, and even just before the attacks, it was around 1.3 million. Compared to that, it's now four to five times higher. However, for Japanese people, the peak was in 2008 and it's currently down a bit.

Japan Airlines doesn't have direct flights anymore. Also, Garuda Indonesia used to have two flights a day, but that's been reduced to one.

Yes. But AirAsia started flying direct from Narita last year, so perhaps the number of Japanese tourists will increase again.

Earlier, Mr. Ono mentioned that unless someone is properly cremated in the end, they cannot be reincarnated or reborn.

That is exactly a major issue; the tens of thousands of people killed during the September 30th Movement were not cremated, but rather thrown into large holes dug in the ground and buried. After that, everyone was afraid of the Suharto regime, so no one tried to dig them up and give them a proper memorial service.

Since it simply cannot be left this way, permission has finally been granted to dig them up and re-cremate them, and that is gradually being done.

So they treat it as if they had been entrusted to the earth until then.

Yes. They believe that souls are still wandering around, and when various strange incidents occur, everyone blames it on that. For example, if traffic accidents happen repeatedly, they truly believe it's because of evil spirits.

So, while conducting these raw investigations, I felt very strongly the Balinese traditions that exist in everyone's hearts.

It's true that they believe in evil spirits.

Yes, they really believe in them.

In Balinese dance, there is the "Barong Dance" where the holy beast Barong and the witch Rangda perform an endless battle. I feel that the spirituality of this Barong Dance is what is most characteristic of Bali. In other words, Barong and Rangda symbolize the poles of sacred and profane, good and evil, light and darkness. However, the idea is that good and evil exist simultaneously.

That's right. It's not about which one wins or loses.

A result never comes. Essentially, good is good because evil exists, and if there were no evil, good would not exist either. Good and evil, life and death, light and darkness—they can only exist because of each other. I think seeing harmony there is the Balinese spirituality, or rather, the Balinese philosophy.

Even now, there are wars in the world and tragedies like the September 30th Movement; there is light and darkness in this world. I feel that the spirituality at the root of the Barong Dance—the idea of always trying to maintain harmony—could be useful as a hint for reconciliation and peace. Because in any matter, you can't clearly label something as good or bad.

I think so too. It's not all good things, and it's not all bad things, right?

Ultimately, it's about the importance of maintaining balance. That's where kindness and the spirit of reconciliation are born. I believe that is the Balinese spirituality.

Exactly, balance and harmony. Even during the massacre, one of the excuses used for killing communists was that they had destroyed the balance of the village society and the self-contained Balinese community. You can see how important that is.

Just before that, there was the eruption of Mount Agung in 1963. When the September 30th Movement happened while the aftermath was still lingering, it was seen as the wrath of God. After all, everything is God.

In 1908, all of Bali came under Dutch rule, and just as it seemed Balinese culture might collapse, Western culture was added to it, and a new Balinese culture blossomed. In other words, Bali is constantly evolving by repeating collapse and rebirth. When the terrorist attacks occurred in 2002, Bali took a huge hit, but it was reborn and is creating a new Bali again.

The ways to enjoy tourism are also changing in various ways; for example, the Tegalalang rice terraces, which used to be just for viewing from a height, have recently become accessible for walking through. Therefore, I really want Japanese people to go and see the newly evolving Bali.

That's true. Instead of thinking one visit is enough, please go again.

If you are someone who has been two or three times, I think if you participate in local festivals like Odalan, Galungan, or Kuningan next time, you will be able to touch the deeper parts of Balinese performing arts and find it healing.

Even the temple in the smallest village has an Odalan. If you travel a little further, there's always one happening somewhere at least once a week, so it's good to go and see it.

Also, there's Nyepi, the day once a year when you're not allowed to go outside. That's interesting, isn't it?

It's called the Balinese New Year, and I took students for a homestay during Nyepi this year.

On that day, you're not even supposed to eat, right? You're not allowed to make any noise either. In essence, it's a day of meditation.

You're not allowed to be active. You have to stay still. Therefore, the airport is closed for 24 hours. Even if you go out on the road, there are no cars or anything running. It's the whole island at once.

As for meals, it's fine for foreigners to eat inside their hotels, but hotels aren't really supposed to turn on the lights either.

Foreigners aren't allowed to go outside either. It applies even if you aren't Hindu.

I've experienced it too, and it was interesting. Well, I just spent the whole day spacing out.

I deliberately take students for homestays during that period and have them experience it for 24 hours at their homestay. Starting this year, the internet is also a no-go. They've cut off Wi-Fi across the entire island of Bali.

Considering the busy days in Japan, it might be good to have a day like that once in a while.