It took us and spicy bike awhile to finally find the little village of the family we were invited to do a ceremony with. Or was it that I was a little apprehensive about joining these people I knew nothing about...?
We were invited to share in a sacred, cleansing ceremony on the new moon. Iketut (the name means 4th born of lowest caste) whom we met at our first hotel, works in housekeeping there specifically instructed us to arrive at 2 pm as we must do the ceremony at 4 pm exactly, on the new moon, when the tide would be at it's lowest.
As most homes in the villages, this one was also behind walls, and it was very exciting to finally see what was behind them. Running together in one large compound of small, rough cinder block, homes with carved wooden doors this family lives.
As most homes in the villages, this one was also behind walls, and it was very exciting to finally see what was behind them. Running together in one large compound of small, rough cinder block, homes with carved wooden doors this family lives.
All the male descendants and their families live in the compound (the sisters having moved on to the villages of their husbands). Grandparents and Great Grandparents who have raised their children now are a close part of raising their grandchildren. One of the brothers took spicy-bike away to a secure place for parking.
We were told this home, which was nice and sturdy and clean but had almost nothing in it, except for a tiny sofa, one red rug that was rolled out when we arrived and a bamboo cocktail table which they served us a refreshing cold tea-juice drink on, was vacant and belonged to Wayan (number one, the eldest brother, who lives in neighboring Java), though by the end of the evening each of the little rooms was occupied in this otherwise ‘vacant’ house.
After our drink and barely English chat (Iketut is the only one who speaks any English, and it’s not much) we were shown to what was clearly the nicest room in the house as it had a curtain over the screened window, a double bed with a clean white sheet along with a nicely carved small armoire with mirror along with a hook rack on the otherwise bare walls to hang our clothes. As in all Balinese buildings and homes, shoes are ALWAYS removed before entering and the floors which are impeccably clean (walls can be really dirty, but never the floors for whatever reason).
Sent to bathe, as we were told we must be absolutely clean for the holy ceremony, including our hair must be washed, we took turns taking our uncomfortable 'showers' in the small room with a squat, foot toilet and tiled box of fresh water (the mandi) which had a plastic scoop-bucket to dump the cool water over ourselves. There was no soap or toilet paper etc but IKetut delivered to us a towel, which he had borrowed from the hotel for us to use. The entire bathing experience was not very comfortable and quite messy. 
Iketut then brought us to their part of the compound (which I don't think I could ever find again) to borrow and dress for the ceremony, which was another big ordeal. His tiny fresh, sweet wife (who speaks 10 words of English) wrapped me up in a sarong over my already existing sarong pants. Then she decided it was too short and found another, then she bound me up in a horrible corset, saying it was hers, which is impossible and I think she was being kind, then adding a wide belt to cover the corset and then a terribly itchy, long-sleeved lace shirt over my tank. Keep in mind its like 85 degrees with 80 percent humidity and I was already sweating like a slob squishing into these clothes half my size. She finally finished me up with a gold belt that could have been made of plastic for how it felt. Morgan was carefully taking it all in, knowing she was next. Yep, corset and the whole works! She too was wound and bound up in this seemingly silly ancient costume, corset included!
When everyone...grandma...grandkids...were all washed, dressed and ready, flip-flops on, we all piled, and I mean PILED, into a rickety 80's village Suzusu-type vehicle. All except the front seats had been removed (so more can fit) and
I was feeling uncomfortable knowing the 90-year-old-something great-grandparents were sitting on the floor in the back while us giants sat comfortably in the front seats of honor. Off we went to Tanah Lot, the famous, holy Hindu temple by the sea.
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