However, there was an option entitled "traditional farming". Now, when I see the word "traditional" in this context, it conjures up images of folk dancing, local art and pottery, and then a gift shop selling funny hats. However, this excursion turned out to be rather different and a very enjoyable day out indeed. It helped that the idea of traditional farming hadn't appealed to many other passengers and so a small group of just 14 climbed aboard the coach and we set off.
We travelled along the surprisingly good roads, up towards the higher country in the centre of the island, and passing the continuous shops and stalls that always line the kerbs in this part of the world until we reached our destination....a small farming village.
First of all, the villages in Bali are quite unlike any I have ever seen before. The villages are a kind of gated community with elaborately decorated walls made of black lava rock surrounding small houses contained within. The main entrance is also highly decorated and each village also contains all that is required to function, from a public hall to a little school. All of this adds to a sense of both protection and community for the inhabitants. Although Indonesia is a Moslem country, Bali is almost exclusively Hindu and so each house within the village contains a mini-temple and a shrine or six. Many of the shrines contained offerings and were decorated with black and white cloth....in reverence to the local Hindu deity, not because Newcastle United had acquired a new fan base.
We met the women of the village who were busy weaving things from little baskets to intricate flower arrangements; and of course were encouraged to have a go too. We looked at the work the local schoolchildren had produced, we saw one of the village elders show off his prized cockfighting champions (yes, it's legal here), and checked out the pigs (roast suckling pig is a specialty). Then we moved on to the rice paddies, watching the oxen being used to prepare the next field to be planted, while in other fields the rice was being planted or almost ready for harvesting. We were taken on a tour of other fields where the very fertile ground was yielding crops such as diverse as kiwi fruit, peanuts and tapioca. Further along were cocoa pods, papaya and coconuts, all of which we were invited to taste.
Eventually, it was time to shelter from the heat and to have some lunch. The women of the village appeared and served us with a coconut and tapioca starter, then green bean, spinach and chicken soup and for the main course, chicken satay, rice, coconut, lemongrass, tofu, and beans. Dessert was banana and sweet rice. It was all absolutely delicious, but what made it special was the presentation; all the plates were made of banana leaves and the rice and other ingredients were served on little individually woven palms. The amount of work involved must have been huge and it was just a wonderful treat to eat outside surrounded by flowers and butterflies. We were really struck by just how gentle and friendly the local people are towards their guests...the sort of welcome and hospitality that would make us want to return one day.
On our return to the port we stopped by one of the largest temples on the island, a very tranquil site, surrounded by a moat of lotus flowers, but as the Bali traffic jams are legendary, we did not have too much time available for a good look around.
The last tender back to the ship from the shore was due to leave at 5pm and we were still stuck in traffic at 5.30 pm. We knew that the ship had to wait for us, but we still knew what was coming.
We joined the long line of latecomers as the sun was setting. In the distance, third officer Susan started to walk along the pier, inspecting all the tender time transgressors. We kept our gaze fixed firmly ahead hoping that she would not make eye contact but wondering if we would be sent for a night in the brig or to have to write 500 lines "I must not be late for the last tender". Thankfully she strode past but I pity any poor souls who were still browsing in the terminal's souvenir store.
By this time it was almost dark, and a swell was developing between the shore and the ship which was anchored some 40 minutes away. The crashing waves and having to avoid the number of fast and small watercraft which were still buzzing around the bay made for a rather sporting journey back to the ship! It had been a great day and far more interesting and fun that we had ever imagined.
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