Before arriving in Bali, Balinese (and javanese ) music was certainly enjoyable to me, kind of in the same way that much contemporary music is enjoyable. Meaning, that I can listen to it, but might as well completely forget about understanding the structure, the composition, and what makes it work as a piece. Most of the other students going on this trip had years of experience learning world music, and could easily recognize different popular Indonesian gamelan tunes. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to comprehend Balinese music with its strange sounds, on unfamiliar instruments, WITHOUT being able to read any sheet music!! That being said, I was terrified as the week began. Terrified that someone would look at me struggling and say "oh, nevermind, you don't understand this stuff. " I started the week in Bali feeling as if I was about to take an intimidating test, and instead I found myself embarking on a musical, cultural, historical, intellectual and spiritual journey (YES all five of those!).

From my journal at the end of our first full day in Bali:
"Tonight at the gamelan performance, I wondered, "how am I going to endure this?" I didn't like the sound of the jegog at first. The bamboo was so harsh and abrasive sounding. Even so, I couldn't help being impressed by the way all the musicians were so into what they were doing- always grooving, always smiling, even when the spotlight was on the actors and dancers instead of on them.
At the end of the night the audience was invited to come up on stage to experience the instruments first-hand. I sat in a corner, sandwiched between some musicians furiously beating out the melody in record speed, and some other men beating out the bass line on the gigantic bass jegog. It was so powerful- I heard the interlocking melodies, saw the colors of bamboo and the red stage. I felt the vibrations of the instruments. But what was most powerful to me was what I smelled- the air was heavy with the scent of fresh cut bamboo mixed with the thick sweat of so many people who were giving every ounce of energy they had into furiously conjuring up the spirit of the music. The smell was so raw, so primal. And they were putting their whole being into it. This music that I just could never understand before suddenly hit me at every level, and I started crying on stage."




Representative list of Bali Cast of Characters (shortened most of their names)

Pak Wayan- organizer of Flower Mountain. Named Wayan because he is the fifth of 9 children (the first, 5th and 9th of every family are named Wayan). Patiently answered all of our questions, created masterplan tours for us, had no problem driving us an extra 45 min if we didn't like the first beach he took us to. Had a calm and consistent sense of serenity to him, that made you feel like when you were with him, you had all the time in the world.

Pak P- the other main driver who took us to performances, to and from town, etc. Hardly spoke english, but spoke enough to make us all laugh with his references to John Travolta, imitations of Chinese songs, and practical jokes. He really had a smile that lit up his whole face, even when he had to stay up all night and day with different driving assignments.

Boo M- the wonderful and affectionate chef whom I ended up calling my "Bali mom". M is famous for keeping the musicians of World Music Center well fed. About 3/4 of what she cooks is vegetarian, so good for me! While we had our gamelan class, we could smell all kinds of curries and sauces wafting in from the kitchen. Her food was so delicious that we often opted out of eating in town in order to have more of her food. She cooked extra tofu because she knew it was my favorite. On the third day she took us to a temple ceremony in her village, and the whole time she was glowing as she showed us her temple, her community and her customs.




Pak A- I'm not sure I can put into a paragraph how powerful a teacher Pak A was to me. He had a quiet demeanor but bursting with energy. He enjoys doing Eastern/Western fusion music, so we would sit the library for hours collaborating on pieces he wrote for violin with Balinese instruments. He played his music and sang what the violin part should be, while I tried to pick it up. I wrote down as little as possible and really tried to use my memory to learn his music, the way that is so common in non-Western learning. He encouraged me to improvise- praising my good ideas, and suggesting other things when my playing sounded uninspired. We recorded two songs that I will be able to post soon. His fusion music opened a new world to me and I hope to do collaborations like that many more times in the future.

The rice farmers (Pak W, Pak R, Pak S, Pak M, Pak S)- a group of rice farmers who happen to be a walking encyclopedia of incredibly long strains of ancient Balinese music on antiquated wooden "xylophones" called gambang. They spent the whole week attempting to teach us a song called Labda Karya. They speak very little English so most of the communication was done through demonstrating, singing, and smiles. The spacing on the gambang makes no sense- sometimes the notes will rise in pitch as you go to the right, in the order of a piano, and other times you will find yourself going to the far left of the instrument for the highest pitch. But this is no worry to them! Only to standardized, westernized me! I just loved their personalities though- so laid back! They shared in our excitement as we finally mastered maybe 1/3 of the song that week.
Pak M- M is the specific rice farmer that I worked with. He was younger than the others but when he smiled I noticed he only had a few teeth. He sat on one side of the gambang and played the melody backwards while I struggled to learn it sitting on the normal side of the instrument. While always patient, he seemed completely befuddled that the spacing of the keys, and the (very random-sounding to me) melody confused me. At one point he sighed and took out his cell phone. Let me just tell you, for some reason it was such a surprising sight for me to see this rice farmer, dressed in temple clothes, playing an ancient instrument, whip out a cell phone!! I was pulled straight back into the 21st century, and I sadly thought, maybe he was bored teaching me and decided to do some text messaging. However, to the contrary- he had programed on his cell phone the pitches of the song we were learning, and made me listen to it on his phone over and over! It seemed so funny to me, listening to an ancient melody, passed down in the family for generations, on a cell phone!
On the third and fourth day of our week together Pak M was not there. The others told me in their halting English that he has diabetes and often gets sick. I found this very sad, because the more I asked, the more I learned that there is really not sufficient medicine in Bali for someone with diabetes. And the best I could do was tell Pak M on the last day to take care and that I hope he feels better.
The 3 of us ladies learning from the farmers!



The Balinese dont separate music into practicing and performing. music is not just an activity that they do. Art is their entire being, and you can see it in the way they walk, the way they talk to others, and the way it is on their face when they perform. Tied to a higher thread, this is because religion is truly all-encompassing for them, and they express themselves to the gods through art. I think it is rare these days to find such a level of integrity. Some of our teachers brought their fathers or their elders, who were also (of course) extremely accomplished musicians, and they would sit patiently during the lessons. I am someone who cannot sit still. After about 5 minutes of sitting still, I end up fidgeting. I think most people are the same. But, these old men were different. I saw one of them peacefully reclining against the wall, attending to something that had nothing to do with the people around him. Eventually I figured out where his attention was. I realized that he was naturally and meditatively tapping an offbeat pattern to go with the tweet of an insistent bird nearby. He did this for at least 30 minutes.

I could tell so many more stories~ such as wandering onto a rice field and speaking with a farmer in what little Indonesian I know, or bringing great joy to a few poverty-stricken children by handing out tic tacs to them instead of money, or observing the most absurdly elaborate and decorated funeral procession I've ever seen. Feel free to ask me more questions via email, but if I tell all these stories now then I would never ever finish this blog. I felt very humbled as I was leaving Bali, knowing that in 7 days of intensive lessons I was only able to grasp about 5% of what this small island has to offer. My close friend and I cried as we were leaving Bali. As soon as the streets became 2 lanes, and then 4 lanes, we knew that our charming village days were over and it was back to the real world. No more improvising with musical masters until 2 in the morning, no more worrying about getting your keys stolen by a monkey. I just really hope that one day I can return to this amazing place!