“Thunder Struck” in the Sidemen Valley

20-28 September 2010

“It looks like its letting up” Nick repeats for the 3^rd or maybe 10^th time today. It has been raining for almost three days and Nick is pacing from balcony to balcony, across the beautiful hardwood floors of our glass enclosed room overlooking the Sidemen Valley. I am comfortably reading my 13^th book of the trip under a batik quilt, reveling at the novelty of being chilly, and peeking out from time to time to enjoy the view through the open sliding glass doors that comprise two of the four walls of our room. Being marooned here in this villa, tucked serenely in the Sidemen Valley, couldn’t be more relaxing for me or more frustrating for Nick. While I contemplate taking yet another bath in our giant black stone bathtub, Nick exclaims that he must go on a walk before dinner. I accompany him and it actually does not rain for a full thirty minutes, allowing us to enjoy the indescribably green landscape of the now misty and soggy countryside.

After a night of lightning and thunder, we awoke to clearing skies and great expectations for a day outdoors. After breakfast, we put on our running shoes and hit the road for a long run across the rolling green valley. On this and other runs during our stay, we ran up and down hills, through small villages, encountered many friendly children, drying peanuts and cloves, an impromptu roadside cock fight, eight year olds riding motorbikes, disinterested dogs, and a rain swollen river. In the afternoons it usually rained and as such we read, ate lunch, napped, did yoga, waited for the clouds to clear for a good view of Gunung Agung, took additional walks, and used the internet while drinking banana lassi’s. We originally planned to stay here three days, three turned to six, six turned into nine. We love this valley.

The next few days were spent doing much of the same. We soaked up the bright green calm of the terraced rice fields. I repeatedly tried and failed to count the number of terraces visible from our balcony-there are just too many. The intermittent bursts of thunder became almost comical as they repeatedly caused me to scream or for Nick to literally restrain me from jumping out of bed in the middle of the night (some of you may be familiar with my easy to scare nature). One day, in between rain storms, we climbed innumerable slick-as-ice stairs up a nearby ridge to visit a beautiful spire-like temple visible from the valley floor below. After our exhausting hike, we made it back to Sawah Indah (our hotel) just as the rain started to fall, fat raindrops threatened to soak us in the seconds it took to climb the stairs to our patio entrance.

On September 23rd, we walked the perimeter of the valley (the first of many such walks) and in the process were able to enjoy the preparations and processions of the bi-annual full moon festival to honor temple guards. We saw young girls and women dressed in lace and batik sarongs, balancing tall pyramids of fruit, beautiful flower arrangements, mirrors, and rattan-woven baskets on their heads while they headed in and out of temples. Later that day, one of the biggest rains in our 28 year old hotel managers memory bulleted through the valley, resulting in landslides and roads sloughing off the hillsides. We watched from our terrace as the neighboring farmers braved the rain and cleared out the drainage systems that keep their terraces from flooding over and sliding down the steep incline. It was likely the hardest sustained (three hours or more) rain Nick and I had ever witnessed. Ah, the tropics!

On another day, we purchased beautiful handmade tiles (about $0.80 apiece) from the same tile maker who makes the beautiful tiles that cover the floors and bathrooms at Sawah Indah. Nick kept me about my senses as I considered buying enough tiles to fill an imaginary kitchen floor in a home we do not own. Talk about the potential for buyer’s remorse.

In the evenings, we drank beer, and arak cocktails, watched the sunset, and anticipated the rain as it moved across the valley. We learned the joys of watching it head straight for us, a million pin pricks in each of the hundreds of terraced rice fields. Watching weather arrive is a strangely fulfilling experience when you have nowhere to go and nothing to do.

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Traipsing the Tourist Trail in Bali

19 September 2010

Since our next destination, the Sideman Valley, is difficult to access via public transportation we took the opportunity to bundle our transport with a visit to a few tourist sites along the way. We first visited Goa Gajah, a Hindu cave complete with intricate carvings and rampant, inelegant tourist development. The approach to the site involves wading through dozens of souvenir stalls trying to sell you the exact same things-sarongs, cold drinks, carvings, jewelry-you name it. At one point, a man dressed in traditional garb attempted to get us to “pray” with him for a price. Why Indonesians allow this type of development and behavior at important and beautiful spiritual sites is lost on us. But I digress- thoroughly harassed and unimpressed by this site we made our way to yet another temple.

Gunung Kawi is a beautiful complex of massive temples carved into rock faces along a river. Braving the persistent rain and trinket vendors (omnipresent, yes they are) we made our way down a series of stone staircases past picturesque rice terraces. It is poetic how this staple of Asian cuisine is grown in such a beautiful system of terraces, canals, and levees harmoniously complementing the steep jungle cloaked hillsides. Rarely does one see such an attractive form of agriculture. After meandering among the temples and rice fields, narrowly dodging a torrential downpour, we made our way to a restaurant overlooking the picturesque Gunung Batur. Sitting down to our overpriced and severely disappointing buffet lunch we stared at a dense bank of clouds, fog, and rain. As we finished lunch, and had endorsed a “better luck (lunch) next time attitude”, the clouds began to part. Over the next few minutes the beauty of the volcano, the clear blue lake below, and the surrounding volcanic landscape revealed itself before the clouds returned.

Most of you are probably familiar with Jack Nicholson’s character in the movie “The Bucket List” and his obsession with the rarest of coffees, kopi luwak. “Kopi luwak,” Nicholson would affectionately exclaim as he poured himself another expensive cup of joe. Late in the movie, he is shocked to learn that kopi luwak makes its way through the digestive tract of a civet, an animal that looks like a cat. Heading down from Gunung Batur, we pulled into one of the many coffee plantations lining the road to sample some Balinese coffee. Walking in toward the café we got our first glimpse of the kopi luwak producing civet, it’s a cute, little, fuzzy cat-like creature who were disappointingly asleep in their cages (they are nocturnal). Okay, ladies and gentlemen, this is where it gets interesting. Kopi luwak is rare and expensive not because of how it is grown, but how it is processed. Enter the aforementioned civets. Each day, these cute little creatures are fed coffee berries (I am not sure whether or not they like coffee or if anyone has bothered to ask them). The coffee berries then pass though their digestive tracts, intact, but are processed in the way only a civet can process them. Excreted out of the civet, the beans are collected, cleaned (hopefully very well), and roasted just like any other coffee bean.

We have seen kopi luwak (kopi = coffee, luwak = civet) on the menu several times during our travels in Indonesia. Previously, given its exorbitant price (as much as $12 per cup), we didn’t give trying kopi luwak much thought. Sitting down at the café we were shocked at the price of civet coffee-just $3 (they are like drug dealers trying to get you hooked on the good stuff at an introductory price)! Faced with its affordability we now had to make a big decision. Do really want to try coffee that has been shot out the back end of a civet with God knows what else? After a short period of deliberation, we ordered “Dua (two) kopi luwak.” With great suspense we eagerly awaited the world’s rarest coffee. Staring at our pots of kopi luwak we looked into each other’s eyes, took the plunge, and poured our first cups. It smells a lot like, well, coffee. It tastes like a really strong cup of French Roast with rich, earthy, smoky overtones. Kopi luwak tastes nothing like civet shit…or does it?

The coffee plantation proceeded to then stuff us full of their other products including “female” coffee (you botanists out there can go ahead and debate the difference between male and female coffee), ginseng coffee, hot chocolate, ginger tea, and lemongrass tea. Thoroughly caffeinated, we then wandered around the plantation’s gift shop. In a prominent location we spied their display of kopi luwak. A small sachet of coffee a la civet clocks in at nearly $35 for just a few ounces. While this is a bargain compared to the $50/cup you can expect to pay back home, I think we will stick to plain old Balinese coffee.

We arrived at our destination to the amusement of our driver who was incredulous at the name of our hotel, Lihat Sawah, which literally means “See Ricefield”. Relaxing here in the Sideman Valley, it has now rained for 30 hours straight. Last night, with the after effects of kopi luwak cursing through my body I could barely sleep. I lay awake watching the flashes of lightning and, from time to time, reflecting on the world’s rarest cup of coffee.

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