Sun-warmth prickles and a light tropical breeze caresses skin, while firm fingers knead the muscles of my nearly naked body. A sigh of air tangles banana tree fronds, like river gods rising from the ravine below. Each breath full of the heady sweet tang of frangipani oil slicked into skin. Later I must rise, but for now I am earth, I am wind, I am water; my soul seeks absolution in the elements.
An hour long, full-body massage in open air is not a bad introduction to the province of Bali, Indonesia. I am staying at a friend’s villa, which is situated amongst the lush, green, rice-fields surrounding the town of Ubud. It’s a stunningly picturesque location, seemingly a world away from the frenetic beach-side, bikini-clad crowds of Kuta. The area is home to a rich cultural, artistic history which is woven into the daily life of the local people. Panche, a local young mother who works full time at this villa, has prepared a delicious breakfast of banana filled crepes drizzled with lime juice and honey, black rice pudding with coconut milk, and platters of fresh, sweet pineapple, pawpaw and mango, decoratively cut and arranged on banana leaves. A mug of local coffee – don’t stir it, it’s like mud in the base of your cup – is a refreshing accompaniment to the languid meal, partaken in the open-sided villa, undercover yet al fresco amongst the bright-green terraces of rice grass and hot-blue sky.
My first visit to Bali is the culmination of several insanely busy weeks which have left me exhausted. After the conditioned air of the plane, the airport smelt mildly oppressive, strongly scented like a China-town shop interior. Customs officials stood unsmiling behind heavy, ornately carved wooden booths, stamp stomp stomping paperwork. At the baggage carousel, porters clamoured and vied for attention; over-helpful they grabbed bags, rushed me through declarations, and steered me out into the humid night air where hordes of locals holding hand-written signs waited to collect passengers. Not sure how much to tip, brain fumbling, the porters spotted my Australian currency and suggested an amount. Not wishing to appear rude, I foolishly handed over money without thought and realised later I had been ripped off, my hosts informing me I’d given the porters the equivalent of a month’s earnings for a few minutes’ work. I was tired, annoyed, but shrugged and reminded myself it only took an hour to earn that money in Australia. I could afford to be generous.
The 30km drive from the airport to Ubud takes around forty-five minutes; the wide, manic, motorbike-thronged roads of Denpasar lined with billboards in Indonesian and English slowly give way to narrow roads which wind through hills covered in thick, tropical vegetation. Many small villages surround the town, the land used mostly for the beautifully arranged, terraced rice-fields. These are laid out in visually attractive steps down hillsides to make use of the natural water resources, a system governed and maintained by the local banjar (the land-owning married men’s association, or local government).
The central market area of Ubud is laid out around three main roads. Jalan Raya Ubud (Jl. Raya means ‘main road’) runs east-west through the town centre, and is a good pick-up/drop-off point. Ready to see and spend, I start at the Ubud market (smile and haggle!) then walk south from Jl. Raya along Jl. Monkey Forest, one eye clocking restaurants and enticing local wares laid out in the open-fronted throngs of shops jammed one against another, like mixed sandwiches on a platter at a catered lunch. My other eye is flat-out making sure I stay on the slim, curb-side walkway; snatches of German, Italian, English and Japanese language flavour the soundscape, but more attention is being paid to shopping than manners – I don’t want to be bumped onto the road by another tourist and end up under a truck or motorbike.
A thin stream of people trickles in and out of an area behind an open-gated stone wall. The Ubud Monkey Forest Sanctuary is a sacred nature reserve housing a temple and over 300 long-tailed macaque monkeys, but due to the number of tourists I am unable to penetrate deep enough to see the temple, which is disappointing. Instead I enjoy the adorably cunning, furry faces, cheeks puffed with gobbled banana, surrounded by discarded skins. Two sit together on a low garden wall, pale grey parents cradling a tiny, dark baby. I think of my toddler daughter, home in Australia, and wish I could cuddle her. Looking around, I laugh as I watch nervous tourists hesitantly proffer bananas by their fingertips, snatching hands back like snapped elastic bands when the food is taken. My host had warned me the monkeys can be aggressive, pinching belongings from the unwary, but fortunately many tourists have come before me bearing fruit. The full-bellied animals that approach me are quite polite, almost reticent. One ambles over, calmly assesses with knowing eyes, then reaches out a skinny, furry arm and gently touches my leg as if saying, “May I have a banana please?” Well worth a look and open daily, the entrance fee of 15,000 rupiah (around AU$1.85) goes towards conservation of the sanctuary and its inhabitants.
My shopping goal has been to purchase scarves and silver jewellery; here in Ubud I am spoilt for choice. The markets have plenty of both, and close to Jl. Raya is Jl. Dewi Sita, which has any number of jewellery shops brimming with delicately wrought silver and gemstone pieces. Agonising, I finally decide on some bracelets, earrings and pendants. They are not all cheap, but I am entirely satisfied with the delicate, quality craftsmanship and reasonable prices. Many shops offer credit card facilities, but paying cash lowers the prices.
As I carefully make my way back to Jl. Raya, trying not to stumble on the narrow, sometimes broken-up footpaths which are merely coverings over the sewers below, I am regularly asked “Taxi?” by local men looking for business. Unlike Kuta, a simple “no thank you” and a smile is enough to deter each of them, and I am thankful the people of Ubud do not persistently hassle or annoy. In peak season, one should always look out for pickpockets, particularly children, but for now, here, I am safe from such ills. In order to keep income within the local community, Ubud does not allow the metered taxis from the south of Bali, so a price should be agreed upon with the driver before departing.
Meeting my host, we drive north towards his villa. I am amazed at how many arts and crafts shops fronts the streets. Galleries of artwork mix with outlets displaying wooden furniture, mosaic tiled plates, fabrics, metalwork, toys for the tourist market, and many other items created by local craftsmen and artisans. One shop stands out as we pass, filled with life size, carved wooden torsos, male and female, genitals enlarged and standing proud as signs of fertility. I chuckle thinking about getting one of the displayed items through not only customs but also into my family’s home. “Do you have anything to declare?”, “Ah, no, not really … do I have to?”
We are ten minutes from the villa when the car slows to a crawl – community members dressed in finery as if going to temple are walking slowly, taking up the road. One can sense the celebratory spirit among them. Men wear traditional sarongs, shirts and headscarves, the women brightly coloured skirts and long-sleeved lace shirts, making the ratty rubber thongs on their feet somewhat incongruous. Passing them, my host explains this is a cremation procession. Individual cremations are too expensive for the villagers, so they bury their bodies until a group cremation can be held and paid for by the entire community. I am struck by the abundance of community spirit evident in the culture of Bali, and the more joyful, spiritual approach they take to life and death than the Western culture in which I was raised.
Between avoiding piles of sand and rubble dumped over an entire road lane for use on buildings or land, dodging the many local dogs (they wander all over the road and even lie in the middle of the lanes sunning themselves, forcing traffic to deviate), people walking, or for a stray motorbike to dodge into one’s lane at any moment, driving on Ubud’s roads is not for the faint-hearted, but is certainly entertaining. It appears dangerous, but the locals have a system which works. This comes down to the attitude of the population. Without exception I find them to be friendly, helpful, community minded, giving, as well as respectful and aware of their culture and environment. As an introduction to Bali, I recommend Ubud highly.
Flights from Melbourne to Denpasar on JetStar range from approximately $435.00 to $985.00 one way plus fees and taxes. A range of accommodation options in and around Ubud means travellers can choose from basic to deluxe and all price tags in between.
***All prices quoted were current at September 2009 - please check as these may have changed***
