Ubud to the Rescue, 7/30
Michael Altschul
completely destroys local communities, I arrived in Ubud (pronounced
Oobood). What is Ubud? Well, it's everything that Kuta is not. I
reckon the only thing the two towns have in common is that loads of
tourists go to both places. Other than that, they're worlds apart.
The moment I drove into this fair land, I fell in love. It has a
European vibe -- you can even walk around! But it's also distinctly
Balinese, the streets littered with fragments of the rich culture of
Bali past (and the occasional Western present). I suppose that Ubud
is Kuta done right. Take out the Circle K, the MacDo, bars and clubs,
raucous lewd drunks and "you want lady" calls. And replace them with
local institutions of cuisine (some of which have a semblance to
Cali's very own Asian fusion), art galleries, cultured tourists, and
"batek dance" calls. This is tourism done right. Here you can get a
mouthful of Balinese culture without slobbering all over the island.
But Ubud definitely caters to tourists, make no mistake. This is no
local village town. Consider the art, traditionally based on
Hindu/mythological characters in batik paintings or wooden sculptures.
Here, however, the paintings are often oil on canvas (that still
depict the ancient characters); the wooden sculptures can be anything
from the Last Supper to a Barong character. This, however, is an
inevitable externality of tourism. The local culture erodes, morphs
even; but it remains nonetheless. My big beef with Kuta was that
there was no local culture to speak of.
But Ubud is more than Kacek dance and local art (with Western
influence). It's a place of relative tranquility. People here take
life slowly; they move like the swaying bamboo trees that surround the
city. They offer, but don't push, products; they make fun of
themselves (last night I saw a scooter driver offering a ride with a
t-shirt that read: "Can I offer you transport?"...brilliant, local
humour); they don't incessantly honk horns; they don't get nervous if
I write in my journal for 30 minutes after they've taken my plate.
There are water fountains in restaurants, monkeys on the sides of the
roads, birdcages in my little commune of bungalows. Ubud is an ideal
spot to soak up local culture on your time, rather than having it
force fed on tours...and to catch up on much-needed Zs. I was
motivated to run around town upon arrival, ready to explore. But a
calm overwhelmed me in the middle of the day and I took a 2-hour nap
-- the most profound sleep of my journey, a symbolic exorcism of the
Kuta demons. When I woke up, I felt so alive, energized, excited to
be in Indonesia again!
So I explored. I walked around, got lost, found dinner, and stumbled
upon a "Celebrate Ubud" festival that featured a Barong dance set to a
massive live gamelan orchestra (the music led me to the festival). I
was just sitting down and lighting a Sampoerna (clove
cigarette...don't worry mom, just a couple a day, good tool to meet
folks) when a pair of nervous, young Balinese boys approached me.
They were both students learning English at the University and wanted
to practice with a native speaker. Imagine their excitement when the
learned that I was American (the schools here teach American, not
British, English)! A few minutes later, two more buddies showed up,
all jazzed to attempt to speak with me. Ranging from 17-24 in age,
each was full of life, excitement, energy. And it was contagious!
Little things like explaining them the meaning of "ashamed" consumed
much of our time and was not at all tedious. I was initially off-put
when they told me that the eldest was ashamed of me. "Oh, he doesn't
like to be seen with tourists?" It took awhile before I was able to
correct them. "Ah, you mean he is ashamed to speak English in front
to me." Big difference. I'm still not sure they grasped it entirely,
but it didn't matter. We spoke English, I corrected them; and on
occasion, they'd teach me Bahasa Indonesia and/or Balinese. The
youngest of the group was actually the most confident speaker and
seeks a degree in tourism when he goes back to school. He's currently
working (carving those little Indonesian cats you see for sale at flea
markets) and saving his money, as the education is expensive (and
private) here. He plans to carve me a cat today -- bummer I forgot to
show him a picture of Memphis! We had so many laughs (all while seated
in the middle of this football field while gamelan music blared and
dancers performed, mind you) that we're meeting tonight for my first
taste of Arak, a local liquor which they assure me I should enjoy in
extreme moderation.
I rode home on one of their scooters, we agreed on a meeting spot, and
I put their kind wishes of "pleasant dreams" to practice as I drifted
off to the sounds of frogs, crickets, birds, and, of course,
gamelan...
IndoMike
PS. I'll be compiling a list of advice you don't find in guide books.
Top on the list: if you plan to hit Bali, start your Indonesian
vacation in Ubud -- fly into Densapar and cab it here.