Different Balis

Ubud is a place that grows on you. The main roads of endless shops selling the same things suggest that it has been ruined by tourism. But exploring the streets and lanes just a little further out shows the Ubud where people live and work. Artists are everywhere trying to make a living. I meet a silversmith and his family selling jewelry for next to nothing and he clearly loves what he does.

I've seen at least 50 Elizabeth Gilbert's circa Eat, Pray, Love; both male and female. Between 50 and 65, they are hemp wearing, tanned, lean, yoga enthusiasts mostly from the US, UK and Australia. Cashed up hippies who have sought a change of lifestyle. In a trendy organic cafe they sit close to their friends and talk meaningfully about feelings and experiences with soulful eye contact while drinking green juice or soy lattes. I'm sure their tattoos have deep symbolic meaning.

And then I arrive in Seminyak - the fancier and quieter version of Kuta. I honestly don't know why people come to another country to stay in a resort and go to the (very polluted) beach. I guess it's cheaper than home. I've met people here who have no intention of leaving this Aussie tourist enclave that is nothing like the Bali I've seen. Here tourists wear board shorts and Bintang tanks. The hotel room is plush and breakfast buffet great, but the coffee is not the delicious, thick Bali coffee I've had everywhere else, it's weak filter swill. Some great shops (many too exclusive for me) and massages, but I'm bored.

However, watching a thunderstorm coming in across the beach was amazing. And walking through knee deep floodwater made me feel like a little adventurous and was a good reminder that I'm still in Asia. I won't be coming back to this beach scene for a long time. Ubud - definitely; maybe even before I'm a wealthy 50 year-old seeking enlightenment.

Volcanos and villages

Getting out off tourism central is a relieving change. There is no wifi, no pop music and no more offers of "taxi" (though I must say these are very friendly in Ubud). The rain has hampered my ability to really enjoy the experience. Not being able to walk and meet locals and see beyond the fog has made it a little boring. I feel like I'm trapped by the rain and a minivan. Add the obligatory travel cold and it's not so fun.

But arriving in Sideman, a weaving village of rice terraces and views of the holy Mt Agung volcano has certainly renewed my enthusiasm. The town sits on the hillside overlooking valleys and mountains. When the torrential rain stops, the fields fill with sinewy men and women tending to the multitude of crops and few animals they keep. Here, people are genuinely friendly and excited to meet a stranger. Land of smiles indeed.

Balinese generally have one of four names, indicating birth order, so it is very easy to remember the names of people: Wayan, Made, Nyoman or Ketut. We are shown through the village by Made. As we walk past the school the students are dismissed and come roaring out with calls of "hello!" These are the younger children, who go to class in the morning, the older children go after lunch. The boys make stupid faces and demand photos so they can see themselves with stupid faces. They show off by counting to 10 in English then clutch their bellies and laugh before dashing off down the road home. The girls hang back shyly but with the boys gone they try to chat in English... what is your name!? My name is... That conversation repeats a number of times along with pointing at animals and naming them.

The local weaving factory is a simple affair, but the work place is an OH&S nightmare. Looms swinging across the only work space, backs and necks straining and poor light must pay havoc on the workers. But they have good company and music. I just wonder what the factories that the tourists don't see are like.

There are caged animals everywhere. Even the prized roosters are kept under woven baskets. Dogs, rabbits, kittens are caged. Cows are tied up. The chickens, though seem to be free range. The street dogs are in varying stages of health, some are so mangy and skinny they could drop dead any minute.

Sitting by the river with men bathing on the other side we eat a locally made lunch from Banana leaves. It is the most delicious meal I've had here, but I'm glad I didn't add the chilli sauce. I can idealize the Balinese lifestyle quite easily in that moment.

Another couple of hours driving through more rain, reveals another breathtaking view when the rain clears. Lake Batur and the volcano of the same name appears as the fog lifts. This volcanic landscape is exactly what I had imagined. The villagers here are even more excited by visitors and I chat with a painter about his family as well as an old woman carrying at least 10kgs of grass cuttings on her head.

These snippets of Bali are what I was hoping for, but they are limited on this tour. With a cold and injured arm stopping me from being able to snorkel, I decided to quit the tour group and head back to Ubud for some rest and independence. I think Bali is not really intrepid enough for Intrepid or I am too intrepid for Intrepid.

Rain and dancing

I'm sitting in an outdoor theatre like space with rain pouring down outside and cars splashing past in the torrent that was a road. It's a traditional dance performance. I'm expecting toned dancers with exquisite skills, like Indian dancers.

But running out onto the stage with a burst of energy are about forty middle aged to old men with saggy bellies, bony shoulders and grey whiskers. They sit in a circle and chant in a trance like state for 5 minutes; swaying to a strong complicated rhythm and some very impressive melodies. They don't skip a beat.

The backstage chatter overpowers the performance but when the female dancers come out in their embellished golden costumes and bedazzled (sorry bejeweled) headpieces the show really gets going; the story of good vs evil unfolds. I don't really follow, but the control and shape of the women is beautiful. It's a little bit pantomime and the dancers are not in time, but the men chanting are relentless with their syncopated rhythms and overlapping melodies. It's been 15 minutes now and I'm wondering if the choreography is going to change. Ooh. Here's a shiny tasseled man with impressive fake facial hair. I think he's a god. I like his silk costume. And his sword. Melodic unison. Pitch is spot on. Must be important to the story. Now there's a white, masked man. A bit scary. A hunter....

And so it continues for quite sometime. You get the idea. The male choir exit the stage at the end, picking their wedgies....

It rained all night. All morning and all day with a brief break for half an hour and now it's raining again. More than just the seasonal wet season, this is constant and I am drenched.

Armed with my new plastic raincoat and umbrella, I joined a jaunt through the villages surrounding Ubud this morning. It was pretty - rice fields and ducks and thatched roofs. Traditional houses, but all a bit tourist savvy and not the authentic experience I've had in other places. The tea in a grass hut as the rain fell was nice. The free wifi in a rice field was unexpected but a sign of the times. I remembered the days when traveling was disconnecting with everyday life and existing in the moment. It's so hard to do now.

Have I travelled too extensively elsewhere to enjoy Bali? I'm hoping it's just Ubud and that my travels further afield will be a bit more real.

It's going to rain for the next week pretty consistently. In Bali it's called a shower, in Australia it's heavy rain. That means climbing volcanos in the dark, cycling through fields and snorkeling may not happen.

A $3 dinner was not a bad way to end the day!

Rice and relaxation

I already feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.

From being met by a smiling driver to falling asleep to the sound of frogs and running water to waking to a beautiful vista of green rice fields, this place really is what was promised: peaceful and relaxing. And smiles!

My driver from the airport last night asked me if I liked music - "gypsy kings?". So we listened to Spanish guitars playing Frank Sinatra while passing fancy fast food restaurants and talking about village life in jungjungan where I'm staying. Quite the juxtaposition!

This morning woken by ducks and roosters. I could have slept longer but there is too much to see. A sumptuous breakfast with impeccable service was a wonderful start to the day.

An easy day of wandering the streets of Ubud seeing what I find was the plan.

I found myself at the monkey forest. Which is a forest full of monkeys. And full of Australians with bananas. Some might make an easy comparison between the two. But the forest was lovely, if you ignored the rubbish in the water. And the monkeys were pretty cute and photogenic. Especially the teeny tiny babies, awwww.


The humidity is going to be an adjustment! Is this my sweat or the moisture in the air? Luckily a breeze seems to bring relief consistently.

I think a spa visit is called for soon.

As for shopping. I am going to need a lot of will power to control it. Some amazing art and textiles here.

I think it's going to rain.

- Janet 🍎

Back to Asia!

I'm not sure how interesting this trip will be for those of you reading out there. I'm just going to Bali, where everyone seems to have already been. (And the endless yet still amusing warnings about drugs, tattoos and electrical work have certainly been heeded!)

I wasn't interested in Bali for a long time. Too many Aussies, too touristy. But feeling the need for a break this year rather than confrontational adventure, I reconsidered. The idea of rice fields, beaches, pools, art and crafts and day spas was very appealing.

So here I am on my way, crammed into a jetstar seat an hour into the flight. After a bit of a clumsy accident involving a spider in a letterbox, slippery leaves and a concrete driveway, I'm starting the journey already injured with my right arm and shoulder pretty useless and bandaged. Bring on the massages (recommendations encouraged!), let's hope I don't need to carry my stuff too far.

The plane is full of Australians, thongs, board shorts and tattoos; though I'm sitting next to a Indonesian woman who is naturalized. She's 74 and still works running and cleaning a motel. Her carry on luggage is three full shopping bags of apples that her sister begged her to bring.

Actually, this plane is pretty new, seats are pretty comfy and let's face it, I'll never have leg room issues. Here's the view from my window - Safely above the wing (That's for the aviation enthusiasts out there!)
Okay, so not an exciting start, but it might turn into an express Eat, Pray, Love experience, so don't give up just yet!

(Or you could read that book instead, it probably is more interesting.)