One of the reasons for going on the day's drive was to go to the coffee and spice plantation where we get enough to keep us going at home for the next few months. The place is on the left as you go up the mountain, with a large car park through a rather small gate. The walk from the park to the processing and shop area is through carefully tended gardens where many of the trees and other plants have little name tags, just in case you don't know the difference between a cocoa tree and a coffee tree, or a banana palm and a coconut palm. The shop, tasting area and processing bale are perched on the edge of one of the river ravines. The view itself is worth a stop here, even if you don't taste the brews on offer.
There is a photo here on the web site.
Between here and the other side, the valley drops perhaps twice as far.
The ‘alang alang' grass roof is over the tasting area.
There is a photo here on the web site.
There are all sorts of useful plants along the edge of the natural forest just a little further down the slopes.
On our final day in Ubud Made was waiting for us in the lobby when we had finished breakfast and packing, well before his appointed hour but welcomed by his little Made Maeve; her saviour and life companion had returned to her at last. Our road back south to the Harris Kuta Hotel, our new and final accommodation, went through Bedugul and Pacung. Almost any other way to get to the south would have been quicker than going north, but I still held impossible hopes of getting to the war memorial at Margarana and to Munduk Falls.
The possible hopes of showing Wayan Declan the bottom of a volcano caldera (Lake Bratan), of showing the girls the markets at Candikuning where they could buy all manner of spices and nuts and relieve themselves in Crackers famous Loos, of showing them off to young friends at the Pacung Fuji shop and visiting gorgeous Arniati at the Pacung Mountain Resort and seeing the new baby; these we almost achieved, but the baby and a visit to the local Baturiti markets both also eluded me.
There is a photo here on the web site.
This is the temple in the lake at Lake Bratan, the bottom of a volcano's caldera. The dim outline of the opposite wall of the caldera can be seen on the horizon at the far side of the lake.
The eleven ‘meru' or roofs (always an odd number) indicate that this is one of the holiest shrines in Bali. The secondary shrine (on the right) with only three meru is of little relative significance in the Agama Hindu religion. The single roof structure is not a temple but a bale (a sitting or meeting place), perhaps for displaying offerings or in which the gamelan orchestra might play during ceremonies.
There is a photo here on the web site.
This is an unusual view of the back of the large market building at the Candikuning markets just south of Lake Bratan. The photo is taken from the restaurant deck above ‘Cracker's Bar and Grill' and the fantasy toilets, located in the very back left hand corner of these large and sort of ‘touristy' markets. This market is one of the most common sources of spices for tourists who pass through here but the nuts, including the tiny, sweet little Bali peanuts and wonderful salted cashews should not be missed. In season the strawberries are also a great buy and the tamarillos are the best I have ever had. If you like them you should steal a teaspoon from your breakfast table so you can scoop out the flesh without putting the possibly un-clean skin into your mouth or getting the bitter taste of the skin and adjacent layer of flesh.
We had lunch at Crackers, and a Bintang or two while waiting for the food to be prepared. The food is good and the cooks and waiters did the Bali thing and grinned widely at their Chupa Chups. So did David and Moire, proprietors of the Pacing Indah Hotel, that place where you can stay in the suite that has the ‘Loo With The View', as we did on our first stay in Pacung in 2002. They were also there for lunch and, with Declan's connivance, they sneaked into the supply bag when my back was turned and I was luxuriating in those wondrous toilets downstairs. When I returned and saw those Chupa Chup grins I knew immediately what had happened.
From Candikuning we headed off down the mountain towards the south, by-passing the Baturiti Markets as I thought we were running a bit late to get the grandies settled in to the new hotel before heading off to dinner with Made Sukarja from the old Balihai Hotel and Haaris Chua at the Bali Cyber Café. We had a computer for Made and, not being sure of his expertise if anything went wrong with it, we thought it might be a good move to introduce him to Haaris who fixes all of the laptops we bring to Bail for the orphanage kids. As it turned out this was a good night and a good feed (as always) but really a bit unnecessary. Made and Haaris recognised one another from past business contacts and had a great conversation as they talked over the good old times for a while, any possible computer problems being the last thing on their minds.
I have since kicked myself for the decision to by-pass the Baturiti markets because as it turned out we were not late and I think the girls, and the grandies too, would have enjoyed wandering around, looking and shopping without any of the pressure one gets in the more touristy markets.
But the decision was made and it was on to Pacung - first stop the Fuji shop which is now not so much a Fuji shop as a sort of general and business store run by those who were the smallest children when we first met them, Kade and Ni Luh, now married and with a bounding 4 year old son of their own. With business still going on all around us but the customers pacified with Chupa Chups we introduced all the family, caught up on recent happenings and posed for the inevitable photos, their proud father and grandfather still being an enthusiastic photographer, now converted to digital and not about to miss the opportunity to record our visit for the absent members of the family.
On to the Pacung Mountain Resort just a little further down the hill. Here we expected to meet Arniati and hoped to meet the new baby, a second string to the family of one, after many years of trying and undeniably on the way a year before, almost to the day, when we had found Arni very pregnant and beaming even more than usual.
Arni is sort of the front line meeter and greeter at the Resort so she was waiting to greet whomever it might be stopping in the car park but her business air turned into a little un-Balinese jig when Herself followed the family out of the van.
As always our meeting was more than just warm. We hold Arni dear to our hearts from just a few simple meetings over several years. She is that sort of a person, genuinely warm and her affection is open and honest. All of the family were introduced with big hugs all round as Arni relished her meeting with a family she only knew from the small photo album we always take to Bali and carry with us wherever we go. But the mood changed when the family had gone off to marvel at the scenery down in the spectacular valley, even more spectacular, I think, than the awesome view down the adjacent valley from the Pacung Indah on the opposite side of the road.
We asked about the new baby, of course.
The baby had died at about three months of age, suffering from anaemia. In developed countries anaemia is not a problem, even anaemia associated with pregnancy, and there are a number of treatments available. These treatments are undoubtedly available in Bali but treatment depends on awareness for a start, then on an ability to access the source of that treatment and finally the ability to pay for the treatment service. Somewhere along the line the resources failed Arni and that most precious child was lost to her. All for the lack of some pertinent advice perhaps or, we only hope this is not so, for the sake of a few dollars. We shared Arni's grief as well as we could for a few moments but she wanted to re-join the family, going ‘Ooooh' and ‘Ahhh' over the side of the bale that overlooks the green valley.
As the Inclinator was broken an easy ride down into that green depth was not available so the poor gamelan in the corner of the bale got a bit of a hammering and all of the staff got Chupa Chups and Golliwogs for themselves and, of course, their children.
There is a photo here on the web site.
The gamelan that no-one told the children they could not use.
There is another photo here on the web site.
Arni in the middle of the family by the pond in the bale of the Pacung Resort.
This is a photo that will go into her growing album next time we visit.
There is a photo here on the web site.
The view from the bale. These are some of the rooms and the small pool at the resort. When we stayed there our room was the one at the extreme right on the lower level, hanging right over that breathtaking view.
There is a photo here on the web site.
Towards the head of this valley there is a retreat surrounded by some vegetable gardens and rice fields. The floor of the valley here can usually be accessed by the inclinator, a sloping lift with an open cage that rides on steep rails from the old dining room of the resort right down the slope to the bottom. It's a special sort of a ride that dates back to the earliest days of the Dutch occupation when wives and children spent the hottest months up in these cooler hills. In those days, I'm told, the inclinator was powered by water buffalo tramping back and forth across those deep fields at the end of a very long rope.
It's a different world down there in the valley, cool, misty and very, very quiet. If there is a breeze it seems to pass well overhead, further up the slopes, leaving the still air to the frogs, the crickets, the butterflies and the birds and the insects, and to the lucky intruder from the modern world who comes for a minute and then passes on, leaving it all to the farmer who lives in that little hut. I hope he appreciates his world but he probably sees it in a quite different way to me.
There is a photo here on the web site.
This is the original dining room at the Mountain Resort, now a little-used lounge. It looks down over the view.
I like to imagine it back in those days when it would be full of Dutch wives dressed for dinner and fretting about their children who relished the edge of the platform more than the edge of the dining table. There would be flickering fires down in the valley and perhaps bats or owls or the little maritime swifts who make the main ingredient of bird's nest soup, swooping through the night sky, feasting on the fireflies and insects that would be attracted to the oil lamps around the room reflecting off the starched, white linen table cloths.
I confess that I was sad leaving Pacung and leaving Arni. She is such a little girl-woman. If only one could wrap protective arms around her and shield her from the world's sad events. I had damp eyes then as I gave her a final hug and I have them again now as I work on this keyboard with my mind back on that mountain side.
I wish my words might persuade just one tourist to see beyond the surface glaze of Bali and see the lives of these people; lives that we can so easily make such a difference to if we choose.
It was a quieter ride from Pacung. Perhaps we were all a little tired as the long day wound into late afternoon. Eventually we reached Kuta and Made negotiated the crush of Jl Pantai Kuta; such a contrast in the space of just an hour or less.
The Harris Kuta Hotel is thankfully set well back from the road and the noise of this most un-Bali like road is lost in the trees and shrubs that line the turns of the entry road. It is a nice hotel and we were well received by a number of staff who recognised us from their (and our) past days at the Balihai. They never forget either a face or a name, these people. How do they do it?
It might be a strange thing to say but I think the Harris really suffers from its location on this maddest of mad roads, made so only because it panders to the tourist so much.
Who has ever been to Bali and never been to Kuta?
Bali is Kuta - unless you've been away from Kuta and found another Bali - and we just had.
It was a different holiday in Bali this year.
There were the usual highs and lows, but this year they were packed into just two weeks and were more extreme than usual.