BALI HIGH : SOUTH PACIFIC ISLE'S EXOTIC MYSTIQUE LINGERS LONG AFTER TRAVELS END.

Byline: Susanne Hopkins Daily News Travel Editor

Sometimes, when the workaday world crashes in on me, I let my imagination take flight and I go back to Bali.

Images flash by of velvety green terraced rice paddies, women scrubbing clothes on river rocks, Hindu temples silhouetted against amethyst sunsets. Once again, I am bouncing on a hot-pink raft down the Telaga Waja River, hollering at a light-fingered monkey at Ulu Watu Temple and treading the ancient paths of Tenganan, a walled Balinese village.

With its wild beauty, friendly people and intriguing Eastern traditions, Bali has a way of insinuating itself into your consciousness long after you're gone from the place. About half-way around the world from Los Angeles and eight degrees south of the equator, it's a duck-shaped island less than 3,500 square miles that straddles the Java Sea and the Indian Ocean. Nestled in the armpit of Java, this island of 3 million people is just a small link in the chain of 17,000 Indonesian islands.

But to many, it is synonymous with paradise. Since at least the 1920s, Westerners, drawn by tales of its exotic beauty and easy lifestyle, have flocked to the island in increasing numbers from 54,356 U.S. visitors in 1993 to 63,055 in 1994. Their influence in this Third World country is obvious: Bottled water is available everywhere, public bathroom facilities have (to a degree) been Westernized, the speaking and understanding of English is becoming more common. And Dunkin' Donuts, Kentucky Fried Chicken and McDonald's franchises have established firm toeholds here.

Yet the mystical world of old Bali can still be found ...

On a humid morning on the cusp of Bali's fall and our spring, I and six other tourists, along with a driver and a guide, are in a van dodging starving, homeless dogs and high-tech motorcycles as we make our way into the back country to the 11th-century temple, Gunung Kawi, in central Bali. We rumble past colorful street markets displaying everything from soccer balls to bananas, past women in sarongs carrying overflowing baskets and bright plastic tubs on their heads and shops proclaiming, ``Antiques Made to Order.''

We move further up into the countryside with its rice paddies and verdant hills. Soon, we're at the temple, where hawkers are trying to sell sarongs - required if one is wearing shorts - to enter the temple. ``Just 15,000 rupiahs (about $6.70), madame,'' one calls to me, although I am wearing slacks. I attempt to move on. The price drops. ``Just 10,000 rupiahs, madame, just 10,000 ...''

I bypass sellers of glossy wood carvings (``Just $1 each, madame'') and begin my descent to the temple, which is noted for its 10 carvings etched into cliffs. Stone steps of irregular size lead the way past views of banyan and palm trees and terraced rice paddies. Finally, we reach the first of the intricate carvings. The temple symbolizes the concubines of kings, our guide Priyono tells us, adding that legend has it the carvings were created in one night by a giant - whose only tool was his fingernails.

Up and down stairs we meander, past some of the other carvings, then over a bridge that crosses a river.

But then we face the stairs on the way out. There are so many of them. And some are 18 inches high. I stop looking ahead and just keep climbing. ``How many stairs have we climbed,'' I ask when we are all finally back in the van and downing bottled water at an alarming rate.

``Three hundred and sixty two steps one way,'' Priyono replies with a grin.

The trip takes us to an overlook where we can view Kintamani, a volcanic lake, and Gunung Agung, a volcano that towers more than 10,000 feet high and last erupted in 1963. Hawkers press up close to sell everything from T-shirts and fruit to wood carvings. But we are more captivated by the expansive view of the river, the mountain and the homes nestled at its base. A vent on the volcano's side still spouts steam. How long will those homes remain there, we wonder.

On one side of Gunung Agung is Bali's mother temple, Pura Besakih. (There are about 20,000 temples in Bali, more than anyplace else in the world, and this is the mother of them all.) The 1,000-year-old temple is home to about 30 smaller temples, including at least one for each Bali province. Sited about 3,000 feet up the mountain, it is a steep, hot walk up a street lined with stalls overflowing with arts and crafts, clothing and food, and the ever-present, quite annoying hawkers. But seeing the distinctive Hindu spires set against the spectacular Gunung Agung - which is now swathed in mist - makes it worth it.

And on this day, the place is alive with workers who are preparing for a festival. Women carry bricks on their heads, men work to create a long house that will be used for festivities. We clamber up one side of a twin staircase that traverses seven terraces and affords us peeks into the inner courtyards, otherwise off-limits to us. What we see is the Hindu religion - the great force of Bali, which is nearly 100 percent Hindu - at work.

Our tour continues to Sidemen, where we visit an ikat factory. Ikat is a prized, hand-woven Balinese fabric in which the pattern is dyed into the threads before the fabric is woven. The result is a fabric of intricate patterns and colors with a slightly blurred look. At the factory, about 20 women sit at wooden looms, their only light coming from a small window and the door. Their looms are so close it is like running the gauntlet to walk between the ever-shifting shuttles.

We drive home past rice drying on the side of the road and roosters - who soon will be engaging in cock fights - crowing from within bamboo cages.

There are other ways of seeing Bali than from the inside of a van. If you're willing to work, like a little adventure and don't mind getting wet, you can try white-water rafting. It's a relatively new sport in Bali, just a few years old, but there are several companies that offer trips up to Stage 5 in difficulty.

My trip, a Stage 3 down the Telaga Waja River in Northern Bali, takes me down a course littered with boulders we must paddle frantically to miss, under a torrential waterfall and over a small dam. But for me, the value of the trip is in seeing the interior of Bali, watching life along the river played out as I could never have seen from the road. Rivers are the lifeblood of the island. They feed the rice paddies and provide drinking, bathing and washing water for its people.

As we float swiftly down the river, I admire the spectacular scenery - the artfully terraced hillsides that grow several crops, including rice, per year; green palm trees stretching against vivid blue sky dotted with cotton-ball clouds; small thatched-roof huts. Our guide, Agus, tells us the huts are for the ``house cow'' that every farmer has.

Where the fields give way to mountains of dense forests, waterfalls trickle and sometimes tumble with great force over the side. We duck low under bamboo bridges and red and blue pipes that carry water into the fields. Here and there, people are at work, hacking bamboo with curved knives, collecting palm fronds for weaving, or bathing. Clothes dry on the bushes and rocks. Children wave greetings.

We pass a man cooking his midday meal over an open fire, while further down the river on a small plateau, there's some sort of party taking place. Folks are gathered in a circle, a bright orange umbrella shading some of them from the fierce sun. But as we float by, banging into rocks and spinning in circles, they all rush to the plateau's edge, calling out to us and laughing at our antics.

``This is fantastic,'' says a fellow on our raft. ``This is the way to see Bali.''

At Tenganan, which is inland from the east coast and accessible via a rutted, winding road, I see another side of Bali. It's the old way of life, when villages were enclosed behind high walls and residents did not marry outside their community. About 180 families live here still, but there are only 20 pure-blooded families (those who have not married outside the village) left.

A small donation (less than 50 cents) gets me in. Traditional Balinese houses - several small buildings for eating, sleeping and living enclosed in a compound - stretch along both sides of a long avenue. In the center, there are some long houses used for communal events and storage, and a large banyan tree. In its shade, brown cows sit and chew their cuds, and men sit at card tables hawking Balinese calendars, intricate pen-and-ink drawings on parchment attached to bamboo.

To my horror, a monkey is tethered to the tree with a chain poked through a hole in its tail. It's too shocking to this Westerner and I pass quickly by. Making my way up cobbled ramps, I wander in and out of the houses, which double as shops, most of which feature that distinctive ikat fabric and baskets that display an American Indian influence. In cavelike atmospheres, women weave on looms held on their laps. I could buy a jacquard-style bedspread here for about $20.

Drawn by the noise to another long house, I see that a cockfight is going on. The practice is illegal in Bali, but everyone, police included, ignores that law. Cockfights are still a key form of entertainment here.

Outside the long house, black pot-bellied pigs forage in the pungent garbage dump and men rummage through a pile of old jeans for sale. Carrying a basket of goods on her head, an elderly woman walks by me wearing a sarong - and a Fila polo shirt. It isn't all Old World here.

On my final day in Bali, I venture to the fabled town of Ubud, known for its collection of arts and crafts. The stores here are not the corrugated tin shops so plentiful in the country; they're stucco, with glass storefronts. The prices are higher here, although you can still bargain, and you may find higher-quality merchandise.

I tear myself away from the shopping and wander into the Cafe Lotus in the center of the main drag, Jalan Raya. There's a breathtaking lily pond here with giant pink lilies, hippos spewing water and fantastical carvings.

My trip ends on a mystical note. On my last evening, just as the sun starts to set, I join several others from my hotel on a journey to Ulu Watu, a sea temple set above the crashing ocean not far from Bali's Nusa Dua peninsula. We walk up a steep hill to the stone lookout where others have congregated to watch the fabled sunset.

It is said that Ulu Watu is a ship that wrecked on the cliffs and turned to stone. Whatever, it's a sight those of us who saw it won't soon forget: a Hindu temple standing tall on a sheer cliff, its tiered rooflines etched against a watercolor purple and peach sky.

Dusk comes quickly; the scene is gone. I make my way up to the other drawing card to Ulu Watu: the courtyard where wild monkeys live. Monkeys are everywhere, small and large - and aggressive. They've become accustomed to people bringing food - and they like shiny objects, such as jewelry, which I have taken the precaution of removing. So I'm quite surprised when I turn to grab a handful of chopped apples from a bag provided by our hotel and feel a thud on my back.

A monkey is hanging on, but at my startled ``Oh!'' he leaps away. At a stone railing overlooking the ocean, I encounter another monkey, who is posing, it seems, for a photo. Obligingly, I snap his picture and turn away. Almost immediately, I feel another thud - and the glasses disappear off my nose. ``The monkey's got my glasses!'' I cry.

It occurs to me he might get bored with my spectacles and drop them into the ocean. (Since I always carry a spare pair, this would not be a complete calamity). Fortunately, he detours into a tree. We throw apples at him until he relinquishes my glasses, which clatter to the ground. A guide retrieves them for me.

``Are they OK?'' I ask.

``No problem, madame, no problem,'' he responds.

After all, nothing is a problem in paradise.

On Location

Among the tour groups I found reliable in Bali:

Jan's Tours & Travel Service Ltd., backroads tour, $150 for two people. Includes transportation, bottled water, soft drinks and guide. Phone: [phone] or fax, 0062 361 231009.

Bali Safari Rafting, $65 per person. Includes pickup at hotel, refreshments, lunch and insurance. Phone: [phone] or fax, (62-361) 232268.

Waka Louka Cruises, $78 adults, children 5 to 15 half price, under 5 free. Includes transportation to Nusa Lembongan, transfers to and from hotel, buffet lunch, snack, use of resort facilities. Phone: [phone] or 723629. Fax: [phone].

For more information about Bali, contact the Indonesian Tourist Information Office, [phone].

Outtakes

There's another slice of Balinese life just 7-1/2 miles across Badung Strait, on a tiny island that falls under Bali's aegis. Called Nusa Lembongan, it is a fishing community of about 3,500 people (who also raise mangoes, bananas, pineapples, papayas, tapioca and cashew nuts) and a small resort of 10 bungalows, a blue lagoon of a swimming pool and an open-air restaurant. You can go over for the day or stay at the resort, Waka Nusa (it costs about $100 a night, including meals).

You can get there on a roomy catamaran called Waka Louka. The catamaran outing includes a sumptuous lunch and two of three available activities - I bypass snorkeling in favor of a village tour and a glass-bottom boat expedition.

Even bouncing along on benches in the back of a rickety, banged-up blue truck, the village tour is a good choice. There are intriguing things to see here, such as the seaweed farm where great bunches of the stuff are spread out on mats to dry. Seaweed is the main crop here and is sold primarily to Japan; it is gathered very early in the morning, at low tide, by the men of the village. Later, women sort the varieties of seaweed to be used in cosmetics and food.

The island's main tourist attraction is the Underground House created by Byasa, a farmer and dancer, who carved it out of stone using only a hammer and a chisel. It took him 15 years.

It takes seven minutes to tour the warren of rooms entered via very steep stone stairs. You clutch a small candle with one hand, a nylon rope to keep from pitching into the darkness with the other - and you keep your head down to keep from being beheaded by the low, rocky ceilings. After only a few of the seven minutes, you can see why Byasa never lived here.

The glass-bottom boat outing proves to be no Catalina experience. It's just two holes cut in the floor of the boat and covered with plastic glass. There's no narration, and sometimes, there's more silt than fish to see. So I talk with the only other visitors on the boat, two Australians who visit Bali regularly and this time are staying for a night at Waka Nusa.

``There's a lot to see in Bali, but you have to go look for it,'' Carl says.

It's true - Bali has lots of possibilities for travelers. In addition to seeing the island's historical and cultural sights, there are numerous beaches perfect for sailing, parasailing, surfing and snorkeling. You can go hiking, diving, white-water rafting and bicycling. Shopping is fun and challenging - be prepared to barter - and anything you buy can be shipped home (there are shipping houses in all the larger cities).

You can stay in everything from a bungalow on the beach or a small hotel called a losmen (each for as little as $20) to one of the several five-star hotels on the island (as much as $2,000 a night).

You needn't have a car here, which is good, because driving on these narrow, often rutted roads with several other vehicles vying for your lane is perilous. There are numerous tour companies and taxis; with the latter, decide on the fee you'll pay before you get in the cab. Also, some hotels provide shuttle service to and from the airport at Denpasar and to various cities.

There is a flip side to paradise. Westerners, for example, probably will be upset by the mistreatment of animals so prevalent here: cockfights; monkeys tethered to trees by chains attached through holes in their tails; diseased, flea-bitten dogs running freely in every village.

And there are a few other ``traveler beware'' cautions:

Do not drink tap or unboiled water here, since it could contain parasites American systems cannot assimilate. Bottled water is cheap and plentiful; drink it.

Take toilet paper when you travel away from your hotel. Public restrooms often don't provide any. Also, expect to pay a nominal fee (10 cents or so) when using public restrooms.

Use sunscreen liberally and often; you're only eight degrees from the equator, and it takes very little time to burn.

Hawkers will press against you and crowd around you to get you to buy their wares. If you're not interested, ignore them.

It costs you to get out of Bali, so remember to keep 20,000 rupiahs (about $9) per person. Credit cards are not accepted.

You do not need a visa to go to Bali, nor do you need any inoculations. But you do need a passport good for at least six months.

CAPTION(S):

9 Photos, 2 Boxes

Photo: (1-2--Color) The 11th-century temple, G unung Kawi, left, is noted for its 10 carvings etched into cliffs - supposedly by a giant in one night and with only his fingernails. Below, the temple of Ulu Watu is a dramatic sight against the amethyst sunset.

(3-4--Color) A basket of seaweed on her head, a woman passes a temple on the Bali island of Nusa Lembongan. At right, exotic gardens and stone carvings accent Cafe Lotus in Ubud.

(5-6-Color) Far left, a young girl creates ikat cloth on her hand loom. Center, stone statues of gods and goddesses abound on Bali.

(7--Color) Left, Bali is a picturesque land of green, terraced rice paddies.

(8) After emerging from a waterfall, the raft is beached on the rocky shore of the Telaga Waja River.

(9) Women sort seaweed from the azure waters off Nusa Lembongan. Most of it will be sold to Japan for food and other goods.

Susanne Hopkins/Daily News

Box: (1) On Location (See text)

(2) Outtakes (See text)