While at the ancient Tenganan village, after visiting a palm-leaf scribe and witnessing demonstrations of double ikat weaving (very beautiful fabrics with intricate patterns, taking many hours to complete), my friend, our guide, and I went up towards the temple, which was at the far end of the village; it’s a narrow village with houses on either side and the ceremonial or gathering spots in the center of both sides. As you progress from the entrance below, the village elevates in short stages, with ramps to the next “level” ending at the top where the temple resides. It’s one long rectangular village.
Before reaching the temple, we stopped by the village bee-keeper’s residence where we learned about harvesting honey in a way I had never seen: with bamboo. Hanging, hollowed-out bamboo attracts and houses the bees where they construct their combs (I’ll post a photo of that soon). The bee-keeper periodically collects the honey, as one might in the United States, but I think he said with his bare hands after smoking them to calm them. I thought about my brother because he is a local beekeeper and I know he would have found this visit fascinating!
I keep referring to this man as the “village bee-keeper” because I forgot his name sadly—I wish I could remember all the names of the wonderful Balinese men and women I met over my visit. I regularly went up to people and said hello, and then I would tell them my name and would ask theirs. Greetings in Bali took two forms. The traditional form was to put the hands together (like in prayer) and say hi or say these words (required upon entering a temple), “Om Swasti Astu,” which means “peace and greetings from God.” The informal way, which I did mostly was to shake hands and exchange names and how-are-yous, but I observed some Balinese lifting one hand to the chest after the handshake, which I started doing too (have no idea if it was a man or woman gesture either). This latter gesture is apparently a Javanese tradition more than a Balinese one. What I do know, is that I could not do wrong by trying to practice their gestures or kindnesses as I observed them . If I could use one word to describe many of the men and women I met, I would use the word “gentle.”
So my friend, our guide (Edy), and I spent some quality time with the bee-keeper and his family. He invited us to tea, he gave us a wonderful honey tasting, he climbed the cacao tree and the banana tree to retrieve samples for us to taste. He showed us the wonderful woven baskets his family makes (photographed here on the table—note that the dark spots are the actual colors of the roots of the plant used to make the woven design; the toasty color of the baskets comes from keeping them in a smoking oven for a long time). He also harvests two types of honey—one most people would identify as sweet honey, but the other is called “black bee honey” which is seasonal and is from a very small bee; it has a bitter flavor (but ooooh, sooooo delicious!) and is used mostly for medicinal purposes. My friend and I wanted to buy a vial of both but the sample of the black bee honey was his last vial—only for samples since it was not in season. Somehow, after Edy spoke with him, he wanted us to have it (I tried to tell him no because I wanted others to have the experience of tasting it after we left). Since he had us take it, my friend, Edy, and I took a spoonful every day before heading on a new adventure! I gave the bee-keeper my business card because he collected them. All I have are a few photos of him.
One note about this table where we had our tea, honey, and banana tasting: notice the Dutch style tea cups. Bali has a long history with the Dutch, and you can see a Dutch bakery here and there as you drive through the villages or cities. While touring temples, you will find random signature Dutch china embedded in ancient Hindu walls -- all signatures of Dutch colonial control. They are really quite beautiful, of course, but it felt odd sitting in a pre-Hindu village, witnessing the preservation of all the ancient rituals and arts of this society and then sipping from the cups that are part of the complex history that is Bali. A mere century ago, Dutch aggression in 1906 and 1908 resulted in a Puputan, a ritual suicide, of up to reportedly 4,000 Balinese who would rather die than lose their territory and rule to the Dutch. The cup makes for a lovely photograph, but it’s a complicated figure on the table.
I was so struck by this visit; of all the days I spent in Bali, this was perhaps one of my favorite. I’ll be sharing more photos, more terribly long narratives, so many thanks for your views and comments.
Hope all well with you and the family.
sorry for the typo earlier! Auto spell...