Denpasar, Bali

So here I am, in Bali, by far Indonesia’s most popular tourist island. This is a place of incredible landscapes, rugged coasts, jade-green rice paddies, and delicious food. It is also home to a unique culture and mythology that combines the ancient Hindu epics of India, the teachings of the Buddha, and the indigenous traditions of these Indonesian islands.

Compared to its teeming neighbour, Java, with its population of 154 million, Bali is a small place, home to just over 4 million people. Legend has it that the Balinese are descendants of the ancient Majapahit Empire (1292-1527). A nation of powerful, seafaring kings who once dominated the western half of the Indonesian archipelago, controlling the vital sea lanes and straits that transported the most valuable commodity of the time - spices. Nutmeg, black pepper, mace, and cloves flowed through the Majapahit straits, and with this wealth they built great Hindu temples, and turned their lands into a centre of learning, philosophy and culture. 

In the 13th Century, following the same trade winds that blew spices west, Islam began to arrive in the Indonesian archipelago. First came Arab traders, who persuaded their Indonesian counterparts to revert, allowing them access to a vast transnational community of the faithful—the Ummah - providing trading contacts, safety and security in foreign lands. 

Soon, local kings began to adopt Islam, and these kings started to exert pressure on the weakening Majapahit. As upstart Sultanates carved up the old empire, those who wished to keep their Hindu faith fled. Some to the volcanic slopes of Mt. Bromo in Java, but most to Bali, which is small, mountainous and easily defensible. Today, the Balinese are the last of the Majapahit, still practising their ancestral Hindu faith, and keeping many pre-Islamic Indonesian traditions alive.

I begin my adventure at Alun-Alun Puputan, the city’s main square, which features a huge four-armed, four-headed statue called the Catur Mukha. The statue depicts the god Brahma, one of the trimurti, the trinity of the most important Hindu gods: Brahma, bringer of the universe into being, Vishnu, preserver of balance and harmony, and Shiva, who completes each cycle of existence, destroying the old to make way for the new. The trimurti are each an expression of the highest god, Sang Hyang Widhi Wasa, the supreme being and source of all the universe’s goodness.

I pick my way through the small, often non-existent pavements, dodging mopeds and carts, dripping air conditioning units and boisterous Aussies until I reach Pura Maospahit, a beautiful redbrick temple constructed in the style of Bali’s Majapahit ancestors. I enjoy walking around the shaded, banyan tree-lined courtyards, admiring the statues of Hindu deities, and appreciating the delicate layout of the temple buildings, based on the harmony of a mandala.

It’s been a long day, and as the tropical evening starts to set in, I decide to find dinner. I stop at a roadside warung, one of the thousands of small family-owned street food stalls found everywhere in Indonesia. Most warung specialise in a single dish, and this one serves that great workhorse of Indonesian cuisine, nasi goreng, fried rice. Cheap, simple and delicious, garlic, chillis and shallots are pounded in a mortar with pungent terasi, or fermented shrimp paste. They are then stir-fried together with rice, diced vegetables, sliced spring onion and Kecap Manis, the ubiquitous Indonesian sweet soy sauce (interestingly, the English word ‘ketchup’ comes from the Indonesian ‘kecap’, meaning ‘sauce’, after European sailors brought the local savoury fish sauces home). Out of the wok, it’s plated up with some fresh cucumber, a fiery homemade sambal chilli paste, and, if you’re going deluxe, a fried egg on top. Relaxing with a cold Bintang beer and a deliciously greasy plate of nasi goreng, watching life go by on the street and the bats hunting moths in lamplight, it’s the perfect start to my Balinese adventure.