One of my fondest memories of old Bali was the spontaneous street processions of colour and unique Hindu customs. At first the solid wall of commercialism seemed to block any chance of that these days. But why did the chickens cross the road? Like us, maybe they were a block from the market when they heard the hypnotic gong and ran over to chick it out!
The Men In White are the musical accompaniment to the women's determined parade to deliver the offerings. We had stumbled onto an old-fashioned procession. It lives!! Inside the sacred temple court the beehive of preparations included prayer, incense, and even what we would call a lounge singer. The dozens of devout women would balance their offerings (can you see a whole fish smoking in one??) on their heads and ask for blessings from the Monkey King. All the while, trance-inducing melodies are wafting in from the other side of the redbrick walls.
The pious group then proceeds out and down a busy main street --- oblivious to the traffic and noise. Heaven (literally) help any driver that objects! (Can you find Pat in a blue sarong on the sidewalk? We both had to borrow fabric to cover our bare legs to participate...) The procession leads to a nearby holier-than-the-last-one temple for the final obedience.
Meanwhile back in the courtyard other women continue to make personal offerings and sprinkle holy water in particular ways unknown to us. We wink a "Thankyou" to Hanoman, the Monkey god, for our luck in finding the real spirit of fabled Bali.
The Men In White are the musical accompaniment to the women's determined parade to deliver the offerings. We had stumbled onto an old-fashioned procession. It lives!! Inside the sacred temple court the beehive of preparations included prayer, incense, and even what we would call a lounge singer. The dozens of devout women would balance their offerings (can you see a whole fish smoking in one??) on their heads and ask for blessings from the Monkey King. All the while, trance-inducing melodies are wafting in from the other side of the redbrick walls.
The pious group then proceeds out and down a busy main street --- oblivious to the traffic and noise. Heaven (literally) help any driver that objects! (Can you find Pat in a blue sarong on the sidewalk? We both had to borrow fabric to cover our bare legs to participate...) The procession leads to a nearby holier-than-the-last-one temple for the final obedience.
Meanwhile back in the courtyard other women continue to make personal offerings and sprinkle holy water in particular ways unknown to us. We wink a "Thankyou" to Hanoman, the Monkey god, for our luck in finding the real spirit of fabled Bali.
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