When Settling Into A New House Can Sometimes Involve Inhaling The Neighbours!
A few years ago we decided to leave the familiar behind and settle in a new country, Indonesia. We chose the island of Bali and so far so good, we feel truly blessed. For me it allows uninterrupted periods of complete sloth while I attempt to write another novel.
One of the first chores when starting out was to find suitable digs in which to rest our weary heads and, as my wife is a busy academic, this task fell to me. I recruited a local real estate agent to assist with the search and …bingo!
The first house I looked at I fell in love with.
A large and imposing structure equipped with all the facilities that made my heart sing. Upstairs, downstairs, a well equipped kitchen, spacious living areas, and a private rear courtyard with pool and tinkling fountains.
Naturally this residence, situated as it is in the most prestigious street in the neighborhood was at least seven times over the budget agreed by management. After a lifetime spent in advertising convincing clients that my whacky ideas would work, convincing the breadwinner that this was the perfect location for me to churn out the definitive novel turned out to be not as daunting as I feared.
Foreign consulates, whose salubrious residences hide behind impossibly high walls, favour this street and so I felt immediately that we were in splendid company. The front doors from the garden open directly onto the street, which is a mere fifty or so meters from the beach. …Perfect!
On our first day in residence, once management had left for work and I had taken my morning nap, I was intrigued by the sound of gamelans thundering outside. On opening the street doors I was confronted by a procession of over five hundred men and women surrounding a giant sarcophagus heading for the beach.
Curious, I naturally followed them to the small temple that sits alongside the seashore and what I was witnessing was a cremation. Cremations in Bali usually happen every few months but not in Sanur where the local law dictates that the deceased be cremated within days of leaving this mortal world.
The Balinese cremation ceremony is a loud and oftentimes rather joyous occasion and, as mentioned this was all happening within fifty metres of the house, which further convinced me that the choice of residence was a good one. However, it seems the residents of Sanur seem to be dropping like flies as, on average a funeral procession will wend its way down our street to the sea two or three times a week.
Once the procession reaches the temple there is much chanting and giving of offerings before the funeral pyre is set ablaze to send the inhabitant on his or her way to the afterlife. The prevailing breezes in Sanur are predominately on -shore and can be fairly stiff in the 'windy season' meaning that the smoke from the burning pyres usually heads inland.
The other morning while sitting at my trusty computer staring mindlessly at a blank screen I heard yet another funeral procession pass. About an hour later I detected the smell of. …well something akin to a barbeque. A little while later ash began to waft and settle slowly onto the desk, my computer and … me!
I stood up and headed to the nearest mirror where I noticed that a thin film of ash coated my head and face. It had fallen, soft as gossamer and settled comfortably upon my skin, much of it coating my upper lip. With each intake of each breath I could feel said ash disappearing up my nostrils and travelling directly to my lungs.
I must stress that this was not an unpleasant experience but didn’t take long to work out that the ash had arrived directly from the burning funeral pyre.
Perhaps this should be looked upon as a bonus, for now I have inhaled a local Balinese resident and, even though they have left us, I have done the neighborly thing and kept them close to my heart…literally.
