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Certainly a walk through any Balinese village at night will
strengthen the feeling that the dogs reign supreme. At the same
time the visitor will be pleased to learn that the dogs are
trained to carry out a specific role, and this they do most
efficiently.
They are watchdogs.
The Balinese often smile and tell you that when the dogs come a
little bit too close, they are only welcoming you to the Island
of the Gods. Some Balinese have seen the irony in the reversal of
this catch-phrase so that, at night, it becomes the Island of the
Dogs.
The good news is that the dogs do not bite. They often come very
close, when welcoming you, but they do not bite. Once you
understand this, a walk through the lanes of Bali at night, can
be quite fun.
In the darkness of the night, the Island of Paradise changes.
The inhabitants, used to early rising, and toiling in the fields,
are usually in bed very early, or else they have joined in the
sort of local entertainment which brings crowds of people
together and lasts until morning. They are either tucked into bed
at an early hour, or out socialising all the night through.
Walking at night brings you sometimes to pools of light which
reflect through the dark from afar. Young men flock to a
makeshift pool-hall where the billiard balls rattle and whiz
over the greener than green surface of the tables, while the
ricefields around, have darkened with the night. Outside,
motorbikes lean against motorbikes, in a rare show of affection.
You pass and the noise recedes, and the lights are once more dim.
Every now and again, a five or ten-watt lamp attempts to brighten
the darkness. The occasional street lamp shines on the corners of
the night, where hosts of insects attract the predators of the
dark.
Cats sit on walls or scamper across your path. They sometimes sit
transfixed in the light of your torch and look longingly behind
at their missing tails, which have somehow become a stubby
reminder of the fleeting nature of life.
One of the most wonderful things to do in Bali at night is to
ride a motorbike. This is the time when the roads are clear and
free from traffic and you can drive for miles through the
ricefields of the mind. There is a freshness in the air. There is
a beauty in the rush of wind you create.
As you indulge yourself, stop the bike every now and again, turn
off the motor and listen. Frogs, dogs, and yes, its faint and
far away, but there is the inevitable sound of the gamelan. Where
was it? Ride towards the sound.
Park your bike amongst myriad others in a makeshift parking-lot.
Look around. You will find the all-night entertainment which so
pleases the character of the Balinese.
In the midst is a performance which varies in type and duration
according to the occasion, but on the fringes there is the
inevitable set of stalls and warungs which sell everything you
can imagine, and a lot more besides.
The fun of the fair is in the air. Fairy-floss and T-shirts
gleam under the yellow light of pressure-lamps. The loudspeakers
blare, the gamelan sounds and the coffee pipes hot from the
kettles of the stalls, where boys meet girls with the freshness
of a new discovery. Mums nurse babies in the seats of the stands;
dads yarn to dads on the edges of the light, and life seems never
to stop.
There is no closing down this night. The occasion is the night,
and the action lasts until the sun begins to light the sky.
Light comes again to the mountains and the valleys and the misty
ricefields of the morning, and you must wait twelve long hours
before you can once more wander at night through Bali's back
alleys and discover what is in store for this night.
A friend of mine once said that Bali belongs to the Banks by day
and to the dogs by night.