Ahhhh Nyepi. As Bali’s day of silence approaches, it becomes a topic of conversation.
“What are you doing for Nyepi?”
“I’m not doing anything. Isn’t that what it’s all about?”
Nyepi Day marks the Balinese Saka New Year, and the way in which it is celebrated is totally unique and something that you will never experience anywhere else in the world. This is the day when the whole island retreats into silence for 24 hours. There will be no flights in or out of Bali on Nyepi Day, businesses will be closed, no one will be allowed out on the streets, no television programmes will be broadcast, and on this night of the dark moon, all lights must be extinguished. For the Balinese, the purpose of the day is to teach control of excess, the idea being to spend the day in quiet contemplation and meditation. Any demons and evils spirits will be deluded into thinking that Bali is deserted, prompting them to leave the island.
My first experience of Nyepi was in 1999; new to Bali, I had no idea what it was all about. The airport was open that year and I had a friend flying in on that very day. I was alarmed to learn that she wouldn’t be allowed out of the terminal building! That was, unless she had pre-booked accommodation at a hotel in possession of a special dispensation to pick up its guests. Budget accommodation was out of the question!
I called my friend, “can you change the date of your flight?”
“No” she replied, “why?”
I attempted to explain that the island would be closing down for 24 hours, retreating into silence, work and travel would cease, all shops and businesses would be closed, and all streets would be deserted.
Furthermore, on this darkest of nights, no lights would be switched on, even after the sun had set.
“Uhhhh?” Eight thousand miles away in England, she didn’t get it!
I told her not to worry, I’d work something out! I booked myself into a 5-star resort at Nusa Dua for two nights, and booked my friend in for the second night. I was privileged to be invited to accompany the hotel driver on his journey to the airport to meet her. He was stopped en-route and had to produce his special document of exemption. I asked him if we could drive through Kuta, but unfortunately he was only allowed to travel between the airport and the hotel, and was obligated to report to the banjar again on his way back.
My friend told me that the Captain had made an announcement on the plane, somewhere south of Singapore, “we have just learned that there is some sort of a curfew in Bali. We don’t think this is any form of political action, it doesn’t appear to have anything to do with civil unrest or the forthcoming presidential election.”
When we got to the airport, we met some bemused and frustrated tourists, “we’re being held here against our will”.
Apart from the pecalang, and a gang of naughty kids who were daring each other to sit in the ‘fast lane’ of the bypass, we saw no-one on the streets. My friend was witnessing something exceptional; it was quite an extraordinary welcome to Bali. The following year the airport closed for Nyepi and this initiative has continued every year. An airline pilot told me that it was almost unheard of for an international airport to close, but it’s a much better idea!
“So what are you doing for Nyepi?” Most people, who ask this question, ask it because they ARE doing something, but isn’t this the day that we’re meant to be doing nothing?
Karen is a teacher, “I look forward to this day every year. I book a special Nyepi package at a nice hotel because this is my time to enjoy a couple of nights of luxury with my partner and kids.” Ah kids, easier to keep them entertained at a hotel than at home.
Robert is an eight-year resident of Bali, “I love the silence, when I listen carefully I can hear the outside telling me to stop. I’ll be taking at break at home, and when the day is over I will be wishing it could continue for another week.”
Christopher lives in the USA, “I think Nyepi should be an INTERNATIONAL day of silence and contemplation; the rest of the world could learn a lot by following Bali’s example.”
Andy and Jenna are also expats. “This is a secular island, where else in the world are we obliged to observe a religious holiday? We’ll be compromising by staying in a hotel, at least by doing that we will only be partially obliged to observe the day.”
Robyn and Mark live on the Gold Coast, “We were in Bali last year on holiday; we planned to do all our shopping on our last day and were then informed that we couldn’t leave our hotel! We lost a day of our holiday, it was most unsatisfactory.”
Cheryl and Bruce, from Melbourne, were also here last year, “We had booked a two-centre holiday, but when we arrived we were told that we had to stay an extra day in Kuta because we weren’t allowed to travel to Ubud on Nyepi Day. Why didn’t our travel agent inform us of this?”
Eddie and Chris live in Seminyak, “We’re escaping to Gili Trawangan”. Party on guys!
One year I spent Nyepi with my Balinese ‘family’ at Kedonganan. I was looking forward to a special experience, shared with folks who really understood what it was all about. Food was prepared in advance, and every window and crack of light in the house was blacked out with thick cardboard. The fridge was full of Bintang and we spent the evening of Nyepi ‘in quiet contemplation’ watching movies and drinking beer! So much beer, in fact, that I had to get up twice during this darkest of nights to use the toilet, located behind a corrugated iron screen at the bottom of the garden; the place where, only a week earlier, the head of the household had been bitten by a snake! It’s not only the ogoh-ogoh that strike fear into our hearts at Nyepi!
For me this unique and wonderful day is pure joy. Waking up in the morning and knowing that something is different. Relishing the silence, all I can hear is the birds singing, even the street dogs don’t bark because there is no one to bark at. I open my gate and tell my dog that he can go out and play in the road all day long, but he usually sneaks back into the garden because there are no pedestrians, cyclists or motorbikes to chase. Last year I noticed my Javanese neighbours walking through the ricefield with their prayer mats, defying anyone to forbid them to practise their faith. After nightfall, I sit in my bale, listen to frog song and look at the stars. Unadulterated by street lamps, the night sky is extraordinary. The ricefield next door is teaming with fireflies; I guess they’re always there but normally rendered invisible by electric lights. From my upstairs bathroom window, however, I can see a line of distant lights; they belong to the Javanese fishermen out at sea, cruising beyond the boundaries of Nyepi.
So, what are you doing for Nyepi?
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