“A Balinese cyclist in search of the meaning behind a relief of a western cyclist in a Hindu temple”

For many years, I’ve explored Bali by riding my fixed-gear bicycle. For those not familiar with a fixed-gear, it’s a bicycle that doesn’t allow coasting and the only way to slowdown is by back-paddling and a skid-stop. I can say it’s a fun, fit and thrilling way to go the distance.

Bali has plenty to offer when it comes to cycling. There are so many interesting landmarks to see. One unique landmark that has inspired me to go cycling is a relief of a Westerner riding a bicycle that was carved on the northern wall of a holy shrine at Meduwe Karang temple in north Bali.

This relief has been attributed to Wijnand Otto Jan Nieuwenkamp, who was a versatile Dutch artist who, immediately after landing at Buleleng port in 1904, started to explore the island on his bicycle. Wandering all over the island, Nieuwenkamp witnessed and documented the unspoiled beauty of Bali through his paintings, drawings, etchings and written accounts.

For me, the notion of the first bicycle in Bali, let alone riding one during the olden days, is really fascinating. I felt a strong kinship to Nieuwenkamp and I needed to unearth the message behind the relief.

How could such a secular object — a bicycle — be in such a sacred setting? Was it simply the ingenuity of Balinese artisans responding to the strange sight of a man riding his bicycle? Was it a token of appreciation of the intimate relation between Nieuwenkamp and Bali? Or did Nieuwenkamp deliberately commission this art piece, foreseeing it would be a unique attraction in the near future.

To answer my questions, I decided to embark on my own biking adventure, retracing Nieuwenkamp’s track from south to north Bali.

The first day of my trip, I undertook an 80-mile ride from my hometown of Denpasar to Amed, east Bali. The route was challenging and the sun was beating down on me. But I never felt lonely or tired, especially when kids, who never failed to say hello-hello, kept asking me where I was heading. Some of the kids were even chasing my tail, giving notice that it was all miles of smiles.

Hours later, the dusk sky welcomed me to Amed. Before calling it a day, I went for beer with the local divers, telling them about my trip. We joked and imagined all the alluring beauties that would be sketched by Nieuwenkamp if he had taken on scuba diving.

The next day, I struggled again going uphill at Culik. But Bali is full of surprises. There he was, in front of me, a young man in a wheelchair, dragging himself onward with a radio on his lap that was so loud you couldn’t figure out what was being played. As I passed, I nodded to him and out of the blue he shouted, “Semangat! Keep going!” I felt so blessed.

Heading to Buleleng, passing motorcycles with loud exhausts was music to my ears. The majestic view of Mount Batur and Mount Agung to my left and the wide-open sea to my right were just priceless.

A short detour in Tianyar led me into a chat with a local, who offered me shelter from the sun and home-brewed Balinese coffee. In Kubu, I accompanied a woman walking her stag.

Along the winding Tejakula roads, I passed a group of jubilant high school students who were celebrating graduation. I made a u-turn and asked them if they knew about Nieuwenkamp. While they were busy spraying paint on each other and preparing to go on a convoy, one student suddenly activated his mobile phone and googled Nieuwenkamp for me.

It’s amazing how people would join the conversation and take a break from their activities. There was not much to learn until I was practically in front of Meduwe Karang temple. Resting at a food stall, an old man shouted to me that the relief was across the street. I continued listening to his story about a Dutch cartographer on a bicycle, going back and forth along the slopes of Buleleng.

The next morning, I entered the main temple compound to pray and there he was, Nieuwenkamp, the cyclist, adventurer, and more importantly the island’s most eloquent foreign visual bard, with a fresh frangipani flower on his right ear glancing back at me.

The temple priest explained that the relief we were looking at that day was the result of restoration done years after the 1917 earthquake. It’s such a blessing that Bali has a unique way to preserve a collective memory between past and future — between Bali and Nieuwenkamp. At that instant, the secular carving of Nieuwenkamp on his bicycle became a sacred homage toward artistic achievements, peaceful interactions and mutual respect between Bali and the outside world.

On a personal note, by trying to find Nieuwenkamp, the cyclist, I not only found him, but also my fellow Balinese with their infectious laughs and generally sunny dispositions toward life, and, more importantly, their openness and welcoming curiosity toward new things and new people.

I completed my journey a little bit more slowly, but a lot richer in experience. To quote Nieuwenkamp’s motto: “Vagando Acquiro — I wander, I acquire.” I did too… and so should you.

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