MONKEY FOREST
At the south end of Monkey Forest Road is the actual Monkey Forest Preserve. It is a park situated in a gorge of old growth forest and river with three temples built in the mid-14th century. The sanctuary provides a home for somewhere around 300 Balinese Macaques. Males weigh 8-10 kilos, and females 7-8 kilos. The flyer you are given upon paying your small park fee lists other distinguishing characteristics like teeth and facial hair, but really, there is no doubt which are males and which are females...if you catch my drift (as Don would say!) The park's monkeys are said to live in three groups using different sections of the preserve at different times of day, and squabbles can break out over territorial infringement. However, they share the paved public spaces not just with each other but with the human visitors.
The monkeys of the Monkey Forest have a bit of a reputation for naughty and forward behavior. Visitors are urged to bring nothing with them but cameras, but there is always someone with a bag in which the monkeys are sure there is food and, of course, there are vendors at the gates selling bananas. It is not wise to resist a monkey who has taken your water bottle or who wants the whole hand of bananas in your left hand when you are offering him a single one with your right hand! I remember a story Judy tells of a monkey actually pulling a chunk out of her clothing, and the cruisers were full of tales of monkey bites and rabies vaccinations! Yikes.
So it was with some trepidation that we made our visit.
Anxiety was for naught. The monkeys ignored us and went about all their daily rituals -- cleaning one another, feeding and snuggling infants, eating and even swimming with great glee! Several monkeys were even hard at work cleaning the moss off the temple carvings! It was hard not to think of it as doing their part towards maintenance!
COUPLES MASSAGE
Our next new experience was a couples' massage. You can't walk ten feet down Monkey Forest Road without picking up a half dozen fliers urging you to try their spa services. Printing costs must be very cheap in Bali!
The costs for a a one-hour massage vary from for anywhere from 70,000R to 25,000R (about $8-30.) Bette Lee and Tom had tried the 70,000R massage, so we figured we were game. Let me just say it was not utterly relaxing. The atmosphere couldn't hold a candle to our lovely little beach spa on Gili Air. It was a little more on the line of your Vietnamese nail joint. Our massage tables in the back were two out of a half dozen and were segregated off from the rest by hospital style curtains.
It is one thing to strip down with a masseuse, and a bit of another thing for both of you to do so in front of two young female masseuses!
And then there was the sniffle. It was Don's girl, and it repeated about every 30 seconds. Sniffling a runny nose is one of Don's pet peeves. If it wasn't relaxing for me, I could imagine how squirmy it made him feel.
And then there was the after-massage shower, done together in a pink bath tub with no curtain and hot water that never made an appearance. Like I said, short on atmosphere.
Still, it's hard to argue with any situation where someone is willing to rub all your aches away! And do it for about $8!
After the massage we came back to the Ubud Inn, sat by the pool awhile with our Kindles, went back to the room and really showered with HOT water, and dressed to go to the evening performance of Legong.
LEGONG DANCE
Legong dance is incredibly different from the Kecak we saw two nights ago. Here in Ubud it is set on a very ornate stage across the street from the Ubud Palace. Everything is red, carved and gilded with gold, and unlike the Kecak, brightly lit! (We forgot the camera; so sorry!)
The gamelan orchestra -- collectively called a "gong" -- was divided on the right and left sides of the stage -- I'd guess about 36 strong -- mostly older men (but for one young virtuoso!) dressed formally in red and gold jackets and dark sarongs. This Balinese gamelan orchestra was a far cry from the simple gamelan we saw played in Timor. It is hard to describe! It is essentially a whole range of timpanic and cacophanic devices, arranged almost like zylophones in different timbers, some played with hammers made of horn! In the back are huge gongs, separately in front two seated drummers playing cylindrical drums, and to the left one solitary wood flute! The music produced is a great crashing, frenetic noise!
Against this are very stylized, ritualized dances performed by mostly women, beautifully costumed in very tight ornate sarongs, headdresses and various adornments. The whole thing is in the details. The dancers faces are carefully made up to be as identical to one another as possible. The eyes are accentuated, held wide open, and totally choreographed. Their expressions are neutral...except when they aren't. Eyes slide suddenly right or left in unison, a frown or expression of puzzlement fleets across the brows...in unison, heads tilt or slide or wiggle...in unison. Lips hold only the barest hint of a smile, until...wait..an expression is here and gone...yes, in unison. And so this goes for hip, butt, shoulder, ribcage, knee-bends, foot, arm, and hand movements.
The hands! While the arms move and bend this way and that like a statue of Shiva, the hands have a life of their own, cocked like birds and fingers vibrating, first and index finger, then the pinkie, then either of the other tow. Yes, you're catching on, ...in unison. Throughout the audience you could see tourists surreptitiously trying to even reproduce one movement!
In between are mask dances, where a quasi-comic male character wearing a rigid painted mask and other comic appurtenances -- like six-inch vibrating fingernails -- prances back and forth across the stage.
Each of the seven dances performed represents a story that Westerners can only catch the gist of, even with the "English" program notes, which as the Aussie behind us commented, "I can read these words, but I don't understand what it's telling me." Example; "A mask dance. Exhibits a demon be alone in the jungle who was his freedom to play move and be happy. watch the ancient costume the dancer turns around."
In sum, Legong was an experience I wouldn't want to have missed, that I find myself thinking about, but that we wouldn't be in an hurry to repeat. I'm sure it is is the fault of uncultivated western sensibilities, but there is a sameness to it all -- the movements, the ornate costumes, and most especially the migraine chaos of the Balinese gamelan. (note: other islands have much gentler gamelan traditions!)
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