Where the Wild Things Are

The Balinese may be one of the coolest people groups I have ever met. Maybe it is my testosterone-laden, American background, but I don't usually expect to equate men in skirts (sarongs) with flowers behind their ears (worn after prayer) with uber coolness. But, this weekend, when I found myself surrounded with just such people celebrating the Balinese New Year, Nyepi, I couldn't help but feel infinitely inferior to them. Maybe it was their wildly dyed and spiked hair, or the sunglasses and folder arms, or maybe the cigarettes and tattoos...no, no...I don't think it was any of that. There's something different about the attitude of Balinese men and women that immediately make me want to be their friend just so I can seem less square-like by association. Granted, among the madness of the celebration, there were some sickly-thin rockers with mohawks, full sleeves, and gauges big enough to put my pinky through that were maybe too hard and perhaps a testament to the rampant drug problem in Bali and Lombok, but they were an exception.

My first drink-in-a-bag: Fresh coconut juice

I happened on the parade in honor of the Nyepi celebration after another American friend, Jess, invited me to Lombok for a relaxing, long weekend. Lombok is Bali's less popular neighbor, which means fewer tourists and many more opportunities to see the real Balinese people without the pretense of trying to entertain the bule. We were, in fact, two of only a handful of bule on the crowded parade route. Jess and her students graciously let me tag along with their troupe, despite my conspicuous lack of a sarong. Meanwhile, Jess explained to me that once a year, the Balinese hold the parade to drive out the bad spirits. To do this, groups of high schools students or any other community group can purchase an enormous effigy of a demon or spirit from Balinese folklore. These grotesque, paper-mache monsters are mounted on 10ftx10ft bamboo grids that the groups use to carry it down the parade route. They carry their own float. Does the coolness never end?

They don't just carry these floats, either, they hoist them high in the air with all the vigor of someone who is maybe possessed by the demon spirits they are carrying. They dash side to side along the route, run it in circles, bounce it up and down, and even charge down the route, causing the demon on board to come alive in a sinister dance and hurl itself at the crowd. The crowd, in return, dowse the demon with water as part of the purging process. The belief among the locals is that the effigy is very light at the beginning and becomes heavier and heavier because the demon is being driven out. I'm sure it's not because of gravity or exhaustion of carrying a 16ft tall statue down a kilometer-long parade route...

I found the Yetti!

I'm told the many heads of this guy represents our many-faced nature.

Goliath versus smaller Goliath?

The boys who carry the monster are driven along by the sounds of a mobile orchestra of percussion instruments - a drum line if you will. They played cymbals, banged on gongs, and beat rhythmically on instruments that are reminiscent of a xylophone. Again, it was all played with all the coolness and excitement of a Friday night football game.

We finished our kilometer long parade route, and Jess and I peeled off from the chaos to find some AC. The students kept going, hauling their now, badly damaged monster on to the end of the route. There awaited a large, empty pool just for burning all of the effigies and finally purging the town of the big bad meanies. The following day was a day of silence. All Balinese must stay in their homes without the use of electricity and without making any noises; they don't want to attract the demons back again. 

The whole day was madness, like I'd stepped into Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are crossed with battle royales from Drumline...on hallucinogens...with coconut juice in a bag. And that, my friends, is the real Balinese culture.