Chapter 10: Sacred Waters of Tirta Empul

Ethan woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window, the morning sun filtering through the bamboo blinds of his room in Ubud. The soreness from his Mount Batur trek lingered, but the peaceful atmosphere of his homestay made it easier to get out of bed. Today, he planned to visit Tirta Empul, Bali's sacred water temple—a place he had read about and heard locals speak of with reverence.

He stepped out of his room into the courtyard, where Kadek was watering the garden. She greeted him with a warm smile.

"Where are you off to today, Ethan?" she asked, setting the watering can aside.

"Tirta Empul," Ethan replied. "I've heard it's one of the most beautiful temples in Bali."

"Ah, a good choice," Kadek said. "It's more than beautiful—it's special. The waters there are believed to be holy. Many Balinese go for purification rituals. You'll see."

She offered him some advice about the temple's customs, such as wearing a sarong and respecting the sanctity of the space. Ethan made a mental note to rent a sarong at the temple if needed.

The Journey to Tirta Empul

After a quick breakfast of banana pancakes and fresh papaya, Ethan rented a scooter to make the journey. Riding through the winding roads of central Bali, he was once again struck by the island's beauty. The road took him past lush rice terraces, small villages with ornate gates, and occasional roadside shrines adorned with offerings of flowers and incense.

The air was crisp and fragrant, carrying the earthy scent of wet grass from the fields. Farmers could be seen tending to their crops, their conical caping hats silhouetted against the emerald green landscape. Children waved as he rode past, their carefree laughter echoing in the distance.

After about 40 minutes, Ethan arrived at the temple. The entrance was bustling with activity—locals dressed in traditional clothing carrying offerings, tourists clutching cameras, and vendors selling sarongs, snacks, and souvenirs.

Tirta Empul: A Sacred Space

Tirta Empul, meaning "Holy Spring," was built in the 10th century and was dedicated to Vishnu, the Hindu god of water. As Ethan stepped through the ornate gates, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. The temple complex was serene and awe-inspiring, with its stone carvings, flowering trees, and ponds filled with koi fish.

The centerpiece of the temple was the Jaba Tengah, the inner courtyard that housed the purification pools. Ethan watched as locals and a few tourists lined up at the edge of the pools, each waiting their turn to step into the cool, crystal-clear water.

Before entering the sacred area, Ethan rented a sarong and tied it around his waist as instructed by the temple attendants. He hesitated at first, wondering if he should participate in the purification ritual or simply observe. But something about the energy of the place called to him.

The Purification Ritual

Ethan joined the line of worshippers, watching as they moved methodically from one spout to the next, bowing their heads under the flowing water and whispering prayers. The water gushed from elaborately carved spouts into the pool, each one representing a different aspect of purification.

When it was his turn, Ethan stepped into the pool. The water was colder than he expected, sending a shiver through his body. He moved to the first spout, bowed his head, and let the water cascade over him. It was invigorating, as though the icy flow was washing away not just the dust of the journey but the mental clutter he'd been carrying for years.

He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of peace as he moved from spout to spout, following the ritual as best as he could. By the time he reached the last spout, he felt lighter—both physically and emotionally.

A Quiet Moment

After the ritual, Ethan found a quiet corner of the temple to sit and reflect. He observed the intricate carvings on the temple walls, depicting scenes from Hindu mythology. Nearby, a group of Balinese women were arranging offerings of fruit, rice, and flowers, their hands moving with practiced grace.

He thought about how deeply intertwined spirituality was with daily life in Bali. Unlike in the cities he'd visited before, where rituals were often hidden or private, here they were everywhere—in the temples, the streets, even the roadside shrines. It was a constant reminder of something greater, something timeless.

Ethan took out his journal and began to write, trying to capture the essence of the experience. He wanted to remember the feeling of the water on his skin, the sound of prayers murmured around him, and the sense of connection he felt—not just to the place but to himself.

Lunch in Tampaksiring

After leaving the temple, Ethan stopped at a small warung in the nearby town of Tampaksiring for lunch. The owner, an elderly woman named Ibu Made, recommended the bebek betutu—slow-cooked Balinese duck wrapped in banana leaves.

As Ethan ate, he struck up a conversation with Ibu Made, who told him about the local legends surrounding Tirta Empul. According to myth, the spring was created by the god Indra, who pierced the earth to release holy water and revive his army after a battle with a demon.

"Every place in Bali has a story," she said with a smile. "That's what makes it special."

Ethan nodded, realizing how much richer his experience was thanks to the stories and people he encountered along the way.

Back to Ubud

The ride back to Ubud was slower, partly because Ethan wanted to savor the scenery and partly because the afternoon heat had settled in. He stopped at a roadside stall for fresh coconut water, the vendor expertly slicing open the green husk with a machete.

By the time he reached his homestay, the sun was dipping toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the rice fields. Kadek greeted him at the gate.

"How was Tirta Empul?" she asked.

"Beautiful," Ethan replied. "It's not just the place—it's the feeling it gives you. Peaceful. Grounding."

Kadek smiled knowingly. "That's the magic of Bali. It doesn't just show you beauty—it makes you feel it."

Ethan spent the evening on the balcony, sipping tea and watching fireflies dance in the garden below. As the sounds of gamelan music drifted in from a nearby temple, he realized that Bali was more than just a destination—it was an experience, a world that existed on its own rhythm, inviting those who visited to slow down and savor it.