Unfortunately, after many, lovely, relaxing days at Wawa Wewe and getting to know the locals, tomorrow was time to head further north but not before my party.
My last day was spent snorkelling and laying on the isolated beach, surrounded by fishing boats. One of Wawa Wewe's friends was dozing on a nearby hammock under the trees, when I noticed a man, emerge from the sea with, a huge octopus and some fish.
When I brought this to the attention of my new friend dozing in the hammock, he asked if I would like to buy it. Why on earth would I want to buy it and if I did, what would I do with a dead octopus! We will have it for your party he exclaimed and before I knew it, I was the owner of a freshly caught octopus and a few fish.
Pleased with himself, that he had cut me a really good deal with the fisherman, he approached me excitedly, to hand me the seafood. I jumped back. There was no way I was going to carry that big tentacled creature. Eat him, I could but carry him, I wasn't.
I strutted back to Wawa Wewe, my friend, in tow, carrying my new purchases.
How was this going to work? Wawa Wewe has a restaurant, I can't just rock up with some fresh seafood and demand they cook it.
When I entered the restaurant area, people and staff were dozing and lazing about in the heat of the mid afternoon but once I walked in and they saw what we had, many questions were asked.
Where did I get it? How did I catch it? What would I like to do with it?
The last question was an offer. After I made up a ridiculous story, that went something like this.
I was snorkelling, the octopus approached, I had no choice but to punch him, as I had no weapon to defend myself. First there was silence, quizzical looks and then a roar of laughter.
After that, everyone 'woke up' sprung to attention and before I knew it, we were sitting on the ground, in a circle, chopping up chilli, ginger, garlic, galangal, lemon grass and then pounding it into a paste for my party octopus.
My hands and my wrists ached, as I pounded the paste with a mortar and pestle, until someone else took over and then another.
After about a half hour we had a delicious looking, aromatic, creamy paste.
Next we layed out palm leaves, mixed the octopus and fish in our paste and tied it into parcels with the palm leaves and fronds. We left it to marinate. Later, that night, we would cook it on a fire and eat it with our fingers.
They told me, word would get around, that I had bought palm wine. The people I heard singing from the mountains, would make their way down and we would have a party.
The sun set, we gathered around in a circle on the grass of Wawa Wewe and the ritual began.
Given that I was the 'host' of this party for supplying the two jerry cans of palm wine, I was to initiate the drinking. This was done like so; only one cup was to be used, I would pour each individual a cup of wine, offer it to him or her. They down it, return the cup back to me, and so it goes, doing the rounds.
This was not like your average Aussie BBQ., where everyone brings their own and drinks at their own pace. Everyone was to drink at the pace I could fill the cup and hand it to them. Not that you would really want to drink palm wine at a fast pace, for both the taste and the intoxication of it.
Slowly but surely, as they promised, one by one, new guests arrived and before I knew it we were six and then twenty, eating fresh octopus and sculling palm wine.
After we had mellowed from the delicious food and the palm wine had started to take its effect, the singing began.
Singing in Bahasa, however, one of the staff translated for me. As it went around the circle and the story grew. About a an Australian lady, who came to stay at Amed, embraced the food and culture of the Balinese people, bought some palm wine and now we are having a farty.
This was not a spelling error, instead, a pronunciation error but too cute and funny to correct. Given the amount of palm wine and chilli that was consumed, it turned out to be correct!
When I brought this to the attention of my new friend dozing in the hammock, he asked if I would like to buy it. Why on earth would I want to buy it and if I did, what would I do with a dead octopus! We will have it for your party he exclaimed and before I knew it, I was the owner of a freshly caught octopus and a few fish.
Pleased with himself, that he had cut me a really good deal with the fisherman, he approached me excitedly, to hand me the seafood. I jumped back. There was no way I was going to carry that big tentacled creature. Eat him, I could but carry him, I wasn't.
I strutted back to Wawa Wewe, my friend, in tow, carrying my new purchases.
How was this going to work? Wawa Wewe has a restaurant, I can't just rock up with some fresh seafood and demand they cook it.
When I entered the restaurant area, people and staff were dozing and lazing about in the heat of the mid afternoon but once I walked in and they saw what we had, many questions were asked.
Where did I get it? How did I catch it? What would I like to do with it?
The last question was an offer. After I made up a ridiculous story, that went something like this.
I was snorkelling, the octopus approached, I had no choice but to punch him, as I had no weapon to defend myself. First there was silence, quizzical looks and then a roar of laughter.
After that, everyone 'woke up' sprung to attention and before I knew it, we were sitting on the ground, in a circle, chopping up chilli, ginger, garlic, galangal, lemon grass and then pounding it into a paste for my party octopus.
My hands and my wrists ached, as I pounded the paste with a mortar and pestle, until someone else took over and then another.
After about a half hour we had a delicious looking, aromatic, creamy paste.
Next we layed out palm leaves, mixed the octopus and fish in our paste and tied it into parcels with the palm leaves and fronds. We left it to marinate. Later, that night, we would cook it on a fire and eat it with our fingers.
They told me, word would get around, that I had bought palm wine. The people I heard singing from the mountains, would make their way down and we would have a party.
The sun set, we gathered around in a circle on the grass of Wawa Wewe and the ritual began.
Given that I was the 'host' of this party for supplying the two jerry cans of palm wine, I was to initiate the drinking. This was done like so; only one cup was to be used, I would pour each individual a cup of wine, offer it to him or her. They down it, return the cup back to me, and so it goes, doing the rounds.
This was not like your average Aussie BBQ., where everyone brings their own and drinks at their own pace. Everyone was to drink at the pace I could fill the cup and hand it to them. Not that you would really want to drink palm wine at a fast pace, for both the taste and the intoxication of it.
Slowly but surely, as they promised, one by one, new guests arrived and before I knew it we were six and then twenty, eating fresh octopus and sculling palm wine.
After we had mellowed from the delicious food and the palm wine had started to take its effect, the singing began.
Singing in Bahasa, however, one of the staff translated for me. As it went around the circle and the story grew. About a an Australian lady, who came to stay at Amed, embraced the food and culture of the Balinese people, bought some palm wine and now we are having a farty.
This was not a spelling error, instead, a pronunciation error but too cute and funny to correct. Given the amount of palm wine and chilli that was consumed, it turned out to be correct!
After much fun, singing, laughter and intimate talks with the owners and their friends and staff; the mountain people, slowly peeled off, to head back up to their homes.
What a wonderful last night. What a tremendous experience. A farty to end all parties.
As my head hit the pillow, for my last night in Amed, I could hear the distant singing from the mountains.
What a wonderful last night. What a tremendous experience. A farty to end all parties.
As my head hit the pillow, for my last night in Amed, I could hear the distant singing from the mountains.
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