It's about 2am and I'm sitting in a bar in Seminyak, Bali, with my friend, Erin, a musician from the band Flores.
He's telling me the story of the night of the first Bali bombing, just after 11pm on Saturday October 22, 2002.
He and his fellow musicians had finished their gig and were having a late dinner in a restaurant nearby. They heard a loud bang and saw flames and raced to the site to help people.
He focused on one man, making sure he got him to hospital to be treated for his burns, and visited him daily until he was able to leave.
We were engrossed while he told the story. It was fascinating - and terrifying - to be reminded of that fateful night from an eyewitness. Even though I had been to Bali before that event - I first visited when I finished high school - it's really over the past nine years that I've become a regular visitor there.
In this time I have grown to love the island as my second home. I was there just a week before the second bombings on October 1, 2005, and this time if anything it made me more determined to keep returning.
Typical of the resolve of Balinese who usually don't have any choice but to stay and face the obstacles of international terrorism, is I Gede Tanggal Lisa (known as Tanggal), a big, muscular security guard who has worked for Paddy's Bar in Kuta, Bali, for around 10 years.
He was wounded in those 2002 bomb blasts when Paddy's and the nearby Sari Club were destroyed and spent months in Darwin being treated for his extreme burns.
As soon as he was able, Tanggal went back to work at the new Paddy's and still does - calmly overseeing the craziness as any night of the week young people spill out of bars onto the footpath, listening to live bands or being called in by spruikers.
Bali has always been a favourite destination of people from Australia as well as many European and Asian countries, and most delight in its spirituality and beauty. But still, despite all the mishaps that seem to involve Aussies there, I'm often surprised at the warmth and friendliness between us and the Balinese.
Even with all the shortcomings, dangers, hideous traffic, overdevelopment and problems, when you come out of that crazy, busy Denpasar airport and feel the steamy heat, your whole being relaxes. It's a sensual place and the smells and sights intoxicate you, from the overpowering incense found in the daily fruit and flower offerings to swimming in the gentle waves at Jimbaran Bay. A massage with coconut oil on the beach or in a more luxurious spa, volcanoes rising above bright green terraced rice paddies, colourful kites flying above them to keep away the birds, temples in forest settings, rough surf on black-sand beaches and an incredible variety of deliciously spicy food: these are just some of my positive images of the island.
But most of all Bali is the people themselves - dressed up on the way to the temple for a ceremony, piled high on motorbikes, with angelic children clinging to their parents' waists, dancing the intricate dances of the Ramayana, lounging at the door of a reggae bar or just going about their daily business.
On one visit we drove up through the mountainous centre to Lovina in the north and on the way, after some unseasonal rain, the sun shone hotter and sultrier than ever and we stopped by the side of the road to buy incredibly cheap mangoes. Their tangy taste was heaven itself.
On the way we'd passed through the lakeside town of Bedugul where we witnessed priests rowing across the lake to the temple for a ceremony, just one of hundreds held each day, as the participants seem oblivious to or at least tolerant of the wide-eyed stares and photo-taking of the foreigners.
Nyepi - a Balinese day of silence - is a classic example, as an Aussie who lives in Bali reminded me. While the rest of the world makes a big fuss about turning off lights for Earth Hour, Bali shuts down everything for 24 hours apart from the hospitals. It's a day of silence and meditation, when, starting at dawn, Bali plays "dead".
The cultural premise behind Nyepi is to fool evil spirits into thinking Bali has been deserted so they will grow bored and move off to upset the universal balance elsewhere. It's as frustratingly illogical as many explanations I have been given for religious practices and even black magic. But it's best not to question too deeply as those beliefs won't be changing in my lifetime!
Balinese know they have to perform the regular rituals associated with all the rites of passage, including the Melaspas dedication or purification ceremony for a new temple in my husband's village, that I attended on my last trip there. Of course if you like pork, the best part is there's always some kind of babi (pig) involved.
It helps to understand that in Bali there are two very distinct worlds. The "sekala" is the dimension of existence that most can see and touch. The "niskala" is the unseen (by most) realm of magical currents and forces, which has priority over the physical manifestation we typically call life.
But for most foreigners like me it's the "seen" world that holds more attraction. And that means everything from lazing on the beach to adventure tours such as white-water rafting near Ubud.
While one of the major changes since the bombings has been the increase of security at big hotels and public buildings, anybody who's a regular traveller to the island moans about overdevelopment and lack of proper infrastructure.
But as one of my friends who visits regularly says, Bali also offers the chance to be more of an individual somehow - in such an aesthetically beautiful place, the whole atmosphere encourages creativity with less rules and regulations too.
The other side of the coin is that tourism has helped pay for some improvements in roads, telecommunications, education and health. Still many, particularly Bali's large number of artists and writers, see a tension between the modern needs of consumption and religion, which involves inner reflection, as well as protection of the environment.
I remember a lively conversation I had with I Wayan Juniartha, a journalist and cultural commentator, after I asked him if Balinese were worried about losing control of their land.
"Until we, the Balinese, make a united effort, dare to take the risk of making a choice of what kind of Bali we want in the future, the external businessman, the international chain of hotels and the stock market will decide," he said.
But then he joked that we are the ones who should be worried as he might just buy a house in Australia. Balinese can always see the funny side of things.
SOME OF THIS WRITER'S PLACES AND PASTIMES IN BALI:
- Eating sensational street food or from warungs such as nasi campur or going to local restaurants
- Bar-hopping from Seminyak to Kuta - there's always a new venue to discover
- Swimming in the late afternoon at Jimbaran
- Staying in Amed or Candi Dasa or more remote areas of Bali
- Trekking through the countryside or exploring back roads, often by motor bike
- Lying by the pool or on the beach with a good book
- Having a fantastic and usually cheap massage
- Drinking cocktails at sunset
- Walking on the beach at the end of a long, hot day
- Attending a ceremony
- Discovering ancient temples in remote places
- Enjoying the gorgeous resorts
- Hanging out with the local kids and watching them play
- Meeting new people - there's always an interesting local or foreigner to engage with
- Listening to my friend, Erin, playing guitar and singing
Source : AAP
