BALI, SAYAN — We were on day six of our week-long trip to Bali, and our two kids, who had shown incredible skill in overcoming jet lag, were finally reaching their breaking point.
My 5-year-old son was slumped over in his chair, whining loudly. My 1-year-old daughter was rocking impatiently on my butt, rubbing her eyes and crying every time I tried to put her down.
I had a couple of near-exploding bouts of fatigue, and while my husband and I are not great at dealing with anger at the wrong times, the serene main spa area at the Four Seasons Resort Bali in Sayan was less than ideal.
But the spa was the designated meeting place for our family morning tour, “The Life of a Balinese Farmer.” And fortunately, our guide Sari showed up completely unfazed by the tense scenes unfolding before her.
Sari assured us not to stress. She was a mother herself and could relate, and we all agreed that the kids would cheer us up once we started experiencing it.
So we headed out into the hot sun and began our agricultural adventure along the winding paths of the Four Seasons Resort Bali At Sayan. As we walked, Sari pointed out the many gardens throughout the property, planted with crops such as ginseng, aloe vera, wild ginger, and lemongrass.
Steep steps led us to flooded rice fields, where we marched in single file before entering the jungle. As we walked along the small dirt path, Sari pointed out more local flora and fauna, and as the path widened, she revealed that we were entering her home village of Sayan.
Rice fields at the Four Seasons Resort Bali in Sayan. Photo courtesy of Christina Jelski
From there, the trip became a “choose your own adventure” affair, and Sari offered us the chance to visit a traditional Balinese house and a local artist’s studio in the neighborhood. We both agreed, stopping by a neighboring house where several generations of the family live in the same complex, and meeting the talented artist and Sayan native Nyoman Susana Kenem, who gave us a behind-the-scenes look into his creative space as he worked on a series of commissioned paintings.
Then we returned to the resort and sat at a shaded table to enjoy traditional Balinese food: fresh coconut water, black rice pudding, noodles topped with eggs, and a variety of colorful local fruits.
By this point, the children's attitude had changed completely, as expected. They were now running around excitedly, laughing and smiling, preparing for the main event: planting rice.
We headed out into the unplanted, flooded fields, and Sari introduced us to Wirawan, one of the many gardeners/agricultural experts on the vast estate. Wirawan provided us with cone-shaped straw hats to protect us from the sun, and we took off our socks and shoes, rolled up our trousers, and waded into the warm, muddy water.
Kristina Zelski's children with Wirawan and Sari, who served as guides on the “A Day in the Life of a Balinese Farmer” tour. Photo courtesy of Kristina Zelski
To my son, this was heaven. (My daughter, too young to stand in the field, watched us from Sari's arms, her fists full of plucked flowers.)
With Wirawan’s help, we turned the mud with a large garden rake, then listened as he explained the steps of germinating seeds with water. Then we were given a bunch of pre-sprouted rice, which we placed in the mud, evenly spaced in neat rows.
After we were all done, it took quite a bit of persuasion to get my son out of the field. He was finally swayed by the promise of another fresh coconut, skillfully cut by Wirawan with a sickle.
The experience ended where it all began: at the spa, where you can take a shower and even opt for a traditional Balinese massage. Before leaving, Sari gave us a family photo album, which included a mix of candid and posed photos taken throughout the tour, as well as a certificate of completion.
Traditional Balinese breakfast menu: fresh coconut water, black rice pudding, noodles topped with eggs and local fruits. Photo courtesy of Christina Jelski
My children, who had been very irritable just a few hours ago, have changed their attitudes drastically.
Cheerfully, my son asked if he could come back in four months, when the white rice he had planted would be ready for harvest. I gently gave him a reality check that there would be no follow-up trip to Bali to collect the rice. But surprisingly, he did not get angry at all when he heard this.
Instead, he continued to smile, taking comfort in the fact that even though he was not there, his rice plants were quietly taking root and would soon be ready to go around the world to be harvested.
