I was loaned a sarong and sash, and told to wear my white top. White top? Yes, with long sleeves. My snorkel shirt, to prevent another bad sunburn.
The procession was due to start at 3 pm. For the past week, the teenaged boys had been practising in the gamalan band. They were as ready as they'd ever be.
People trickled down to the village temple (news flash, there's a village temple in addition to each compound’s temple. Basically, the one road in the village is lined with temples, so I thought the one at the end of the road was just like the others). I walked into the temple because it was expected of me, then left to the spot I'd scoped out half way down the hill.
Soon, I heard the band. People kept scooting up the hill, trying to make it before the road closure. When I saw a motorcyclist pull over, I knew it was show time.
First came the village leadership, then the tall flags and parasols. Families walked together, parents holding hand with their children. Men walked hand-in-hand. Women carried offerings, some in plastic bags, others in baskets. The band was in the middle of the procession, followed by groups of families and friends.
After everyone passed, I followed. My sarong limited the length of my stride, as did the steepness of the hill. Whenever I decided it was time for a photo, I struggled to catch up.
Across the bridge and up the hill. The throng was sufficiently large that I couldn't see the front from the back until we got to the large field outside the entrance. I watched the flag bearers climb the steps and enter the temple.
The assembly stopped at three temples in the complex of 14. They may have stopped at more. I found I was getting overheated, and left early.
Upon arrival, the band parked by a platform inside the second circle. There was the usual bluster of a group of teenaged boys on show. They were well behaved, and quite a few checked out who was looking at them.
The first temple stop was by the holy water alter. It was a bit difficult to see what was going on -- that alter is positioned in a U-turn from its entrance stairway. There was a collection of priests and important people gathered, while villagers sat on the lawn. Two women seemed to be dancing, at least with their arms. With fluid sweeping motions, they looked like they were invoking good while swatting away bad.
Then the handbells started, and the assembly lifted their arms and put their hands together in the classic prayer position, with palms even with foreheads. When the bells stopping ringing, hands went down. After three prayers, priests moved through the crowd sprinkling holy water over each person. Another priest followed with a flat bowl of uncooked rice, and each person took a few grains.
They moved from the holy water temple to the alter nearest the pagoda. Again, important people were up front and the rest of the villagers sat. Again, bells signalled prayers and hands were raised. Again, people were blessed with holy water.
The primary alter was close by, and the primary (high?) priestess lead the prayers. Two older women near me sang; another pair further over were also singing. It could have been the same song, or a different one. They were definitely not synchronized. After a prayer, people would pluck a flower from their stash and tuck it or a bit of it behind their right ear. The rest would be tossed in offering.
For the first time since I came to the village, I saw tweens flirting. I generally do not see boys and girls together, but here the divide could be safely breeched. That universal behaviour was fun to watch.
On the procession, I saw plenty of people on their phones. Once at the temple, phones were put away. Cigarettes were not. A great many men here smoke.
I lost track of the assembly after that. I was seriously overheated in a long sleeved top and the sarong over my shorts. Once out of the temple, I hiked up my skirt and high tailed it home. Villagers started appearing about 20 minutes later, so I'm confident that I didn't miss much.
Tomorrow, the main event begins. I'm looking forward to the traditional dancing.
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