A Town Called Ubud

If you've ever read “Eat, Pray, Love,” you know exactly what to expect in Ubud. The book (and the movie, really) depict it perfectly. Ubud is green. Ubud is culture. I confess, if it weren't for “Eat, Pray, Love” I don't know if we would have ventured to this far-off land.

Chris and I had gotten into a pretty serious fight in Kuta (these things are bound to happen on long travels). Because of this we weren't talking on the minibus to Ubud. I had to pee in a way I've never had to pee before. I couldn't communicate this to anybody. I dearly wanted to lean over to Chris and tell him I was dying, but I stubbornly sat upright, too proud to announce to anyone that my bladder was in the throes of exploding. Instead I hopped out when the van stopped for some gas. Bladder drained, I continued my speachless stoicism, all the way to Ubud.

Even on the outskirts, you can tell that Ubud is a cut above the regular tourist town. Workshops abound. Stone statues, of the Easter Island quality, stare down at you while you're gawking. This is the land of weirdness. But the weirdness is culture, and you want a part of it. Strange demon faces used to scare me while staying at my grandma's (she was a traveler not unlike myself). In Ubud, strange demon faces are the thing. Stock up while you can. No scariness; it's all cultural.

What Money Can Buy

Our bungalow only cost £12 a night. What in the Western world can get you £12 a night? In Ubud it got us our own private world, complete with koi pond and altar. Our bungalow was decorated like a temple, with scary masks on the wall. Chris and I couldn't believe our luck. More than that, we were situated across from some community center which presented daily performances of Balinese music and dancing. Every morning we'd hear a few poundings from a drum, then in the evening we were serenaded with music, much of the dong-dong-dong variety. We were in Ubud. There was never any doubt.

The food—oh the food. There was hardly any Western fare in Ubud. Restaurants abounded, usually the kind where you sit on mats with your legs curled to the side. There was a laid-back quality to everything. Everywhere you went were fountains and koi ponds and dong-dong-dong music (seriously, the only TV we found in Ubud played Balinese dancing with the ubiquitous dong music; no Olympic coverage here). Back to the food—fish was the specialty. Pepes. Marinated fish steamed in banana leaves, served with a salsa and rice. It was like an orgy in my mouth. Fifty Shades of Grey has nothing on Balinese food (and I use that as a reference because I was reading the first book while in Bali). I nearly went through the roof with pleasure. Did I mention that most meals cost about £1 each? Add the local drink, a mix of lemonade and rice whiskey, you come to a meal that cost £1.75. Seriously, I could live here for a very long time.

Monkey Business

Just down the street from our bungalow was the Sacred Monkey Forest. I'm not being funny; this is the actual name. After side-stepping the daily offerings (every business has an offering put infront of its door, consisting of rice, flowers, and sometimes, Snickers bars) and trying not to sprain an ankle on the sidewalk tiles, we made our way down to this forest, just on the edge of town. The entrance fee was something like $2, a pitiance considering what was being offered. It was Indiana Jones. The moss-covered demon statues, the bridges connecting banyan trees, temples guarded by angry monkeys. It was too perfect. I can't make this stuff up. You just have to go.

The monkeys were bearded and looked like wise old men. In fact, some of them, the elders among them, looked pretty wise. They minded their own business, tolerating the tourists, but not messing with them for food. The young ones were a different story. They were cheeky. We ran into a few of them in the temple harassing pretty tourist ladies. They'd climb onto a tourist's head, making them squeal, getting a kick out of their own antics. I could tell the adolescents were trouble, just like in any community really. I steered clear of the pesky youth. Just minding my own business, though, walking along the path, I felt something hard hit my shoulder. Instinctively I yelped and jumped to the side. Chris saw the monkey before I did. He was perched up on a branch above, with the smuggest of faces. Beside me rolled a half-eaten potato. It dawned on me soon enough that this little bugger had chucked a potato at my shoulder. Perhaps he had been aiming at my head. Perhaps he had been out to crack my skull. His little joke over, he made his way across the branch and disappeared. I stood in mild shock. If I had been on my game, I would have gone after that little monkey tail and flung him through the trees. I would have swung a monkey. I really would have.

The “Volcano” Tour

It would be a crime to come to Ubud and not sign up for a tour. There are so many things to see in the area, and renting a bike wouldn't get you very far. Chris' birthday was coming up. He wanted to see a volcano. Batur and Augung are the giants in the region. Ideally we wanted to climb a volcano, but we were sold on a tour out of our hotel. Dubbed “The Volcano Tour,” it sounded just like what we were looking for. A few temple stops, then a drive through volcano land. We charged up our cameras and aimed for an early start.

On the minibus we were joined by a pair of Brits and a Danish/Korean guy. We instantly gelled as a group. We didn't really have a guide, just a driver who barely spoke English. He dropped us off at the sights and we were left to explore them on our own.

The first stop was a temple just down the road from where we were staying. We were made to put on the obligatory sarong and sash, males and females alike. It was interesting, having been to different religious sights through Asia, finding each religion to have its own dress code. For mosques it's shoes off, legs and arms (and for women—heads) covered. For Buddhist temples it's the same—shoes off and arms and legs covered. For Hindu places of worship, it's perfectly okay to keep shoes on, and really it seems that anything goes. For Balinese Hinduism, a sarong and a sash are required. They're provided at the temple entrance for a small fee.

The temple complexes are huge. To be honest I don't know what to make of them. They look very similar to a Balinese family compound. There are really no statues to behold or kneel before. There are lots of tables, and you get the sense that this is a place for the community to come and participate in celebrations. The temples are really just really big arts and crafts workshops. As Chris and I were wandering around, one of the keepers drew us in and showed us a few of the buildings. One of them housed a gong, another held a mosiac of a god. “One god,” the toothless man told us, pointing upward. “Only one god.” This fit into my understanding of Hinduism, as they believe in a whole pantheon of gods and goddesses, yet they're merely symbolic. It's really not very different from Catholicism, considering the trinity and in extension to that, angels and saints. Christianity as well has a whole family of beings up in heaven. Same with Islam. One god maybe, but lots of other stuff going on as well. Perhaps Hindus just take that stuff into consideration a bit more.

Our second stop was Elephant Cave. The cave wasn't as spectacular as the walk to the cave. The flowers were in full bloom in the garden, and there was a stream and a waterfall. It was Eden, right in the middle of Bali. In fact, I would like to say a word about paradise and chosen lands and such. If there was a universal god, and I'm talking a completely wise all-knowing god that is in control of everything—why, according to a particular religious book, why would he pick a people to represent him, promising them one of the crappiest scraps of land in the world? And for this crappy scrap of land there would be wars and problems galore. If I were god, well to be honest with you I wouldn't pick a people to represent me in the first place, but if I did, I'd pick the Balinese. I'd say, you guys are the happiest people in all the world. I've put you in one of the most gorgeous settings. Share your joy with the world, show them my goodness. I don't even need to send a prophet. You guys already have it made.

Moving on, we came to a place I would rate as one of the best sites in Bali. Its name is Gunung Kawi, and it's full of mammoth-sized stone carvings. It's an ancient Hindu site, and indeed you can feel the age of it as you walk along. The setting is fantastic, down in a valley surrounded by rice terraces. It's a great place for wandering, as one temple leads to another, to another. It had the grandeur of Machu Picchu, or what I'd imagine it would be (I've never been to Machu Picchu, so I'm not sure how I made the connection, but I definitely did). We watched a priest prepare an offering on one of the long tables. Incense filled the air. This was religion at its best, this mixture of ancient beliefs and architecture. You could tell the priests have been making offerings in this setting for centuries. It was a place stuck in time, though you don't have to go far in Bali to encounter that same feeling.

As we rolled up to the next place, we started to get the impression that we were on a “temple” tour instead of the “volcano” tour we had signed up for. But the variety in temples had kept us interested. We had come to “Holy Springs,” a pilgrimage site for the religious to wash themselves clean. There were two main pools. Devotees took up one of the pools, lining themselves up under the spouts. The second pool was empty, so Chris and I took turns dipping our heads under a free-flowing tap. It felt magnificent, cooling ourselves off in that manner. A lady came by to lay down an offering. Everywhere you went there were offerings. Whether these offerings were being presented to a universal force or to ancestors, it was never quite clear. The Balinese are very animistic in their beliefs. They believe that there are spirits everywhere. Some good, some bad. The spirits must be appeased in order to have peace and prosperity. It's not disimiliar in the rest of Asia. Most houses in Buddhist households have an altar dedicated to their ancestors. Well, I'd like to think that my ancestors are watching over me, fluttering around my house, but I just can't picture it.

Our next stop was a nice treat. We had come to a coffee plantation. We got to learn how coffee was grown, roasted and ground. The most interesting aspect to this plantation was the little creature scampering around in a metal cage. It was a luwak, better known as a weasel who fancies feasting on coffee cherries. This is how the process works: The beans inside break down in the weasel's stomach, the acid playing a special role in the procedure, then the weasel poops the beans out whole, and then those beans are washed (thoroughly, I hope) and roasted, then made into the most expensive coffee known to man. Luwak coffee. A cup cost around £3, which isn't bad considering. We had all kinds of coffees and teas placed before us for tasting. It didn't cost anything to taste, and we would have been quite happy just sitting there in the beautiful setting sipping away at ginger or vanilla or chili flavoured coffees. But it was Chris' birthday. This occassion called for something special, so we ordered Chris a cup of Luwak Coffee. A deep smooth brown, it had a peculiar smell. Everyone in the group was apprehensive about tasting it, but Chris loved it. I had a small sip, and dare I say, it carried the subtle flavor of, well, something different. One sip was enough for me. Chris was hooked. He now craves the taste of weasel shit which is unfortunate as it's very hard to come by.

Finally we came to the volcano part of the tour. Our minivan climbed some steep winding roads. Suddenly we found ourselves in a completely different landscape. We were in the region of Kintimani, the land of volcanos. Agung was half-hidden behind clouds, but Batur stood out in all its glory, its giant bulk dominated the landscape. Down below was a lake. From what I could understand, Batur was a double-caldera volcano. The first crater included the lake (which made it a very big caldera). The second caldera was the one that stood tall in the sky, a perfect cone. Our group was very excited, finally getting a glimpse of these beasts. We asked the driver to pull over so we could get some shots, but he told us we'd stop further down the road. This was a cause for agitation, as we were driving further away from the scenic viewpoints we wanted. The driver did stop, but at the destination of his choice. This was a restaurant. Granted, the restaurant offered fantastic views of the valley, but it also offered up overpriced buffet-style meals. We found ourselves trapped. It was obvious that we were expected to buy something. I read later in Lonely Planet that drivers were notorious for doing this. The restaurants charged double the regular price, only for the driver to recieve 50% commission. We were well onto this game, and none of us wanted to play. The whole group decided to get up and leave. The disappointment was obvious on our driver's face. Not only was he not getting his commission, he was also not getting a tip from his grumbling passengers. Such is the game.

We were taken to another temple, but by this time we were all templed-out. The group went in search of street food. Chris and I settled for some instant noodles from a nearby shop. It was a perfect lunch. At that, we left Kintimani. The volcano portion of our “volcano” tour was over. At least it gave us a taster. The region was beautiful, particularly that lake. Chris and I agreed that we'd have to go back, this time on our terms. Maybe we'd even get to climb one of those volcanoes.

The tour ended with a rice-terrace stop. This was more like it. The scenery was outstanding; post card perfect. Curved around us, like an ampitheatre, were the greenest rice paddies I've ever seen. It's impossible not to come across rice paddies in Asia, but hillside ones like this have to be seen to be believed. They are gorgeous. Too bad for the pile of dog shit I stepped in while trying to get that perfect shot. I wiped it off the best I could then climbed back into the minivan. Our tour was now complete.

A Place Like Home

We stayed in Ubud a good five days. Staying in the same bungalow, we enjoyed a little patch of heaven. The people running the place were so accommodating. The old lady was a little senile, but we loved her just the same. We named her Nana (we had had Mama in Samui). As we were paying up at the end of our stay, Nana informed us that a ceremony was taking place in about ten days time. It was the cremation ceremony, performed once every three years. We had seen them preparing for something down at the community center. Life-sized bulls were being lined up side by side. We hadn't understood the significance of these bulls, but now it made sense. Bodies that had been preserved over the past three years were now to be placed inside these bulls to be burned. Highly religious stuff. We couldn't turn down Nana's invitation to return to Ubud for the festival. I was very happy at the prospect of returning. Ubud is one of the most cultural places I've ever visited. It's absolutely overflowing with color and customs. The culture isn't even on display for the tourist, rather it's on display because the Balinese love their traditions and do all they can to keep them alive. We caught Nana and other members of her family watching TV one night. What were they watching? Balinese dancing with that dong-dong-dong music. They love the stuff. They can't get enough. That's what's so special about Bali. Ancient traditions aren't practiced for the sake of tourists and bringing in dollars. The Balinese practice their traditions because it's who they are. And you have to respect that.

Upon leaving our bungalow, I skirted around the koi pond. As I turned back to talk to Chris I noticed a giant spider dangling from a tree branch. I'm talking the biggest spider I've ever seen. I had noticed that there were spider webs covering the tops of several of the koi ponds along the path. I had thought to myself, those must be some big-ass spiders trying to catch fish. Well, yes, I was looking at a big-ass spider that was as big as my face. I'm really surprised I hadn't freaked out, considering I had walked right past it, probably even brushed up against it unknowingly.

With that, we left Ubud.