A bit special (for Western cultures) is a trip to the burial site at Trunyan. Many make trips here, to get to, and see the burial site, which can be reached only from the sea, via a larger motor boat across the lake. Also here differs Balitur itself. Instead of driving to the larger village, from where the motorboat departs, Wayan has chosen to exit, and drive to the village, nearest the burial ground. In addition, it goes through a very narrow and winding road, through small villages which rarely see a vehicle, through one of Bali’s most beautiful landscapes, and Lake Batur bright green glowing on the right side. The road ends in a very small village, located up a larger beautifull temple complex. The village consists of, a dozen or so, houses, and it is clear that the friendly residents do not expect visits every day. The service, in connection with the purchase of a soda and cola, is indescribable. One dollar for use of one, moreover, well-groomed, toilet, triggering a shower of thanks.
After a bit of freshing up, a rowboat arrives to a 4 m. long gangway, consisting of the raw baffle just lying on a few stones in the water. No panic, it turns out that the water is only about one feet deep.
The row-trip over the totally quiet emerald lake, is really indescribable. It feels natural to you, only whispering when you talk. Suddenly appear a little gangway up behind a headland. Here sits a few men who, at the sight of us, begins to stir, and the same goes an old bearded man, in a canoe, – a hollowed tree trunk. As usual, you’r reached by the extended hand, so have some small bills ready in your pocket.
The burial site is, well, not much to write home about. it’s a little bizarre to see skeletons thrown in some makeshift strawshelters. Annually they then cleaned up the old skeletons and the skulls duly piled up the slope.
After fifteen minutes, the boat trip goes back, and if there was any silence on the outward journey, it was a Formula-1 race in relation to the trip home. Even Mr. Balitur himself was quiet.
