In crispy mountains, on a crispy lake, between the stiff dead

When we were near Mt Agung and in sweet old Eddie’s car who after a few days was still interested in being our friend I felt myself at home. Flaming heat had finally left us and there was no gamelan pitch heard in our ears. Even the people who often seemed so hypocritical had left behind, so we got to enjoy the attendance of the nature and the Jawa friend only. The place I’d previously thought as the most beautiful on Bali was the most dreaded among the locals. The people of Trunyam village are told to be repulsive and greedy, if I were to say what a previously met villager had said to us.

They are greedy because on the opposite shore of the lake there’s a cemetery, they take their dead there but they never bury them. So the tourists pay an awful lot for the boat trip to see the bodies, they’re not told that most of the road could be passed on land. And the road by the lake, which took us to Trunyam, was hunting in my mind for a long time.
Trunyam didn’t seem agressive because there was an old friend of Eddie’s taking us to the cemetery by his little wooden boat. On the still lake, that reminded me of Titicaca’s Bolivian side, there were old ladies with fire wood sailing past us. They looked so fit that every grandmother in Estonia would envy them.

The cemetery itself was something we’d been looking forward to. On an area with a size of a few square meters there were six coffins made of straws standing, one could easily peek into them, too. The last body had been brought there three weeks ago and it more looked like a skeleton not a rotting body. The rest had got rid of their flesh and skin a long time ago and they were simply lying there. A pile of flip-flops, bowls, dishes and clothes. A reasonable amount of assets had been sent there with the dead, but as they didn’t bury that too, the pile was decaying there at its slow speed and waited for another pile of trash. Next to the pile there was a line of sculls, slowly becoming mossy; there were thigh bones other bones lying here and there.
There was no smell. Not a single sign of sacredness. Not a bit of eeriness. We were standing on this human land fill quite emotionless and we sat down right there to enjoy the beautiful view on the lake.
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