Intersections of Spirit: More couchsurfing experiences with Indonesian locals.

Originally published April 2018.

Couchsurfing brings me around the table talking about the Divine and community with the most amazing Indonesian people, yet again. I took a boat back to Sanur Beach, and eventually met up with Adrian, a 25 year old guy from Indonesia who was going to host me at his place for the night. I was still pretty sick, so I apologized when he asked if I wanted to go out somewhere and I said I was only up for an hour or so at a chill bar. I tried to explain that somewhere quiet and chill was what I needed, but we ended up at a beach bar and sat right next to the live music speaker, so I was yelling through my nausea and fatigue, and had to ask him to repeat what he was saying what seemed like dozens of times.

We had a good conversation though; he told me a lot about Indonesia that I didn’t realize, like the fact that Indonesia has the 4th largest population in the world (who knew), and that despite the significant Hindu tradition in Bali, 87% of Indonesian people identify as Muslim, of which I had no idea.

Adrian is also Muslim, and we talked about the difficulty of battling the stigmas that are placed on Islamic faith. He said often he doesn’t even mention that he is Muslim in fear of what people will assume about him with its stereotypical associations with fear and terror, unfortunately created by propaganda mainly created by my country, which must be so hard. We talked about the broken relationship between Islam and Christianity, how often we miss out on connection and receiving gifts from people different than us by shutting ourselves off from anyone who isn’t a part of “our tribe,” how the creation of an “us” automatically creates a “them,” outsiders to our communities who though we might say are welcome in passing, are actually not welcome in the reality of isolated communities in practice.

I feel like Christianity often creates a bubble where interactions are often solely with those who are quite similar–in belief, in looks, in lifestyle, maybe being “friends” at surface level with coworkers who may be of a different religion but never pushing deeper because of the fear of coming to face with the “other,” which is so sad because it causes people to miss out on so much connection and realization that we are all seeking the same thing, communion and relationship with the Divine while trying to put language to our experience with the worldview we were handed by the environment in which we grew up. Eradicating the idea that I should ever be timid to connect with people who think differently than me has opened me up to the reinforced lesson time and time again that we are all seeking love and we are all seeking healing, and getting wrapped up in language and constructs so often blocks us from reaping those fruits.

After playing some guitar (he’s super talented) and singing a few song covers with Adrian, we went to bed, and I said farewell to him the next day as I headed to the house of Made, a Balinese husband and father of two.

Made is another couchsurfing host I reached out to, and he offered to host me one night in between having friends stay with them, and I modified plans so that I could make that happen because when else do you have an opportunity to stay in a traditional Balinese family compound with three generations of a family?

From the moment I met Made and his family, I felt so welcome and at home. I practiced my Indonesian (it’s still pretty basic level, with greetings and please and thank you, but I’m getting better) with Made and Haruka, a 21 year old girl from Japan who was also staying there, who spoke Indonesian quite well from her travels in Indonesia last year. She was on holiday from university to become a technical engineer, and we were fast friends.

We learned how to make canang sari, traditional Hindu offering baskets made out of banana leaves and strips of bamboo bark, from Made’s mother, a beautiful elderly Balinese woman who didn’t speak a word of English, but taught us with grunts and points and smiles.

was terrible at first, but eventually was able to make a canang sari that actually stayed together.

We wove and poked and folded until our fingers were raw, and then Made drove us to the village temple to give us a tour and explain the meanings behind the rituals and ceremonies of Hinduism.

We put on sarongs (traditional skirt wraps you must wear to go into the temple), and Made talked about their Hindu faith with Haruka and I while his 6-year old son, Natan, played and jumped around and begged for chocolate. Kids aren’t any different here.

The picture of Hinduism I arrived with from my basic world history education in the states was a very small tainted slice of Hinduism in practice. Hinduism is actually a beautiful religion with so much intentionality that penetrates every aspect of life, from the preparation of food to the way a house or temple is set up.

My favorite conversation Made and I had was about the more scary and dark statues that you walk past in the first part of the temple before you enter into the main courtyard where worship and ceremony happens. Many people interpret the scary statues to be weird demon gods that the Hindu people worship, which is not the case at all. The more scary looking statues are what you address first, out of recognition of the darkness, not out of worship or fear of it. Made explained that in order to see light you must first recognize darkness and not be scared of it, for it is just as important for knowing God as the light, that we need the contrast so that we may recognize the gift of what the light really is. The contrast between light and darkness is a consistent theme in most faith traditions, including Christianity, yet so often just because a tradition’s acknowledgement of a belief looks different than one’s own, one is often tempted to completely render it false, which creates so much confusion and isolation. It’s just interesting that the more I get to know dear friends who practice religions different than my own experience, the more I realize that they aren’t so different after all.

The layout of the temple is almost like a mini universe in and of itself, a microcosm of the earth and the relationship between land and man and Divine, which I didn’t realize until Made explained.

There is also a beautiful intentionally a section of the temple that is open to the sky to represent the importance of keeping relationship with the land, to represent fertility and a healing relationship with the land we steward as humans, something I think is too often neglected in Western tradition.

Also, disclaimer, most Hindus believe in one God, not three separate Gods, which is contrasting to the polytheistic image I was handed in school. Made explained that Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva are a trinity of one God. Names are attributed to characteristics of God. In the same way that Ice and water are different but are made of the same foundation, the attributes of God in the role God is taking in that moment might be different but are of the same substance. Or, in another way– if someone is painting you would call them an artist. If someone is taking care of someone you would call them nurturer. If someone is healing someone you would call them healer. If someone was protecting someone you would call them protector. In the same way that the state of action decides the name that you call it, the state of action that God is providing is just called a different name depending on how God is acting or in what situation God is being referenced, but all the while, God is the same. “Same same,” as Made kept repeating.

It has been fascinating getting an inside scoop on Hindu practice, and I am still learning a lot and don’t fully know what I’m talking about, if you want to read more about Hinduism beyond the complicated non-sensical image we are handed in Western education, this is a decent article: http://www.hinduwebsite.com/hinduism/h_temples.asp

We got back and weaved some more offering baskets, and I told Ayu I wanted to try to find a dragonfruit at the market that night so that I could try it because I had never had it before. She held up a finger and walked through the construction rubble from the restoration project they are doing to a tree in the back part of the compound. Then suddenly she is climbing a pile of broken concrete in flip flops to pluck a perfectly ripe dragonfruit from their own tree. She holds it out for me, smiling. “Now you try.”

Made’s father, the cutest snaggle-toothed grandpa I ever did see, cut the dragonfruit open for me, and proceeded to hand feed it to me as hot pink dragonfruit juice dribbled down my chin and we all smiled and cheered, my teeth stained pink with the dragonfruit glory. If there is a best way to be introduced to a food, I’d say being hand fed by a Balinese grandpa might take the cake for first place.

That night Haruka and I went with Ayu, Made’s wife, to the traditional night market to get dinner, but Bali Belly was still hanging around, and I didn’t trust night street vendors quite yet after my stomach sickness the past couple days. I felt bad in refusing, but I had to politely explain that I didn’t want anything, which Ayu never fully understood, but she eventually stopped asking.

We got back and I talked with Ayu for a long time outside sitting outside of the sleeping area of the compound. Her English is not quite as good as Made’s so she would have to look up how to say things occasionally but we made it work, and we had a super connected conversation about the importance of loving people and finding courage to follow your dreams even when they look different than the way things have always been done. Ayu is fierce and powerful and looks after her friends like a bodyguard. You don’t mess with Ayu. But she says it all comes back to love and karma (another core part of Hindu belief). She says she has so much peace because she knows that as long as she loves people and tries to bring goodness into the lives of others and her own, that God will take care of her. So simple, but I think the world would be better if we all tried to put this into practice a little more. I wrestled in talking with her, feeling the tension of how different me being able to follow my dreams looks much different than Ayu simply because of where I was born. I happened to be born in America in a privileged white community of decent wealth, which allowed me to be able to work in a country where the currency is deemed to actually have worth, and therefore I was able to work semi-hard for only a year and half and have enough money to travel the world for half a year without working, fully sustaining myself, and though I did have to work for this, in comparison it has been very smooth and easy compared to Ayu’s experience. Ayu had a simple dream of remodeling a section of the family compound and eventually getting her degree, which is going to take years of saving and hard labor to bring into reality. She will most likely never be able to travel in a way that I am able to just by a short time of working and saving.

Why is it fair that for less dedication and work, I am able to travel the world at 23 while Ayu has to break her back just to put up a new roof and walls in her home? I knew going into this trip that experiences and frustrations like this would be a key part of my trip, so I am not surprised at all, but it does make it harder to swallow when you make family with people who you would do anything for, and you work alongside them in their dreams that seem way more important than yours, yet way less tangible because of the economic state of the country they were born in. Many more thoughts. Maybe I’ll write more about it later.

The next morning, Tia, Made’s 12-year-old daughter invited me to go on a bike ride with her through the rice fields behind their family compound and then go to the village market together, but before we left, Made came back from his morning meeting with what he called “small bites,” a small portion of rice, egg, tempeh, vegetables, and chili sauce wrapped in banana leaves which we all had for breakfast.

After we ate, Tia and I left to go on our bike ride. We rode on rickety bikes down bad quality rice fields roads, and eventually turned around because we met a pack of stray dogs who did not like the fact that we had arrived on their turf

We then rode our bikes to the traditional village market, where we bargained for a few souvenirs and found a perfect bracelet that Tia wanted. I have never experienced a culture where everything is bargained for, from dragonfruit to police fines, and it is so not a natural thing for me to do. I kind of hate it. But it’s the only way to not be taken advantage of here, especially when you are a very white Blonde girl walking through a tiny village market on a Friday morning.

We got back, and by this point I had decided to go back to Ubud that night and figure out my plans from there, because I wasn’t feeling drawn to anywhere in South Bali. I texted Ryan, my first couchsurfing host to see if I could crash one more night while I figured out what I was going to do with my last 5 days in Bali, and I told him I would be there that evening. In the meantime, it was time for Made and Ayu to go to work, so I had to say goodbye after too short a time.

We took a photo together and hugged goodbye, bittersweet because we all knew it was likely that it would be a long time before we would be able to see each other again. After hugging Ayu, she took my hands in hers and looked me in the eyes and said, “you always have home here. Come back and stay with us long time.” We hugged again, hoping that somehow that might be able to happen one day.

Goodbyes are hard, but being held close and told that their home will always be my home makes the unknown time until the next hello a little more bearable.

I had a couple hours before I needed to leave the compound, so I decided to walk 2.5 miles to the Tegenugan waterfall, one of the most popular waterfalls in Bali.

I thought this was a great idea, because this was the first day I felt energized since I first got Bali Belly, and a walk would feel nice, but I didn’t quite think about the fact that I was leaving at noon, in the heat of the day, and the road there had zero shade. Thankfully I wore my funny tourist New Zealand hat so my face had a break from the sun, but the heat was suffocating.

eventually made it to the waterfall, and the constrast between the quiet rural road through rice fields I walked to get there and the tourist trap that awaited once I turned the corner was quite shopping. After spending so much time with locals, I was immediately put off by how touristy it was. Selfie sticks were EVERYWHERE and there was literally a line of 20 people waiting to take their instagram picture in front of a sign that said “Don’t worry be sexy” on it. I didn’t even try to walk up to the waterfall through the mass of people, I just observed the social dynamics from afar, laughing to myself at people trying to pose super sexy and cool next to the sign, flexing and sunglasses and awkward seductive faces and all, like this rando.

finally had enough and decided I would go sit at one of the cafes on the cliff overlooking the waterfall. I ordered my new favorite beverage, a cold young coconut with a straw for slurping and a spoon for scooping out the slimy white meat after.

So yum and refreshing. I eventually mustered up the courage to face the heat again and walked back to the family compound to get my stuff together and order a ride back to my favorite little town of Ubud. I was excited to go back to the little town that stole my heart, even though I had no idea what I would do once I got there. I knew there was a frisbee game happening the next morning, and that was enough convincing for me.

To be continued.

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Cheers to the Journey, and may your Spirit always reside in a state of Wonder.