Ubud: Retail, Food, Art and more Bloody Monkeys

October 22^nd – 27^th

­­It’s our last full day in Ubud before heading off to Java. It’s been a quiet few days, partially by design and partially due to circumstances – we’ve both been a bit under the weather, not unexpectedly given the sudden transition to South Eastern Asian temperatures, insects and (ahem) cuisine. It seems that one of the mosquitos that feasted on Nikki earlier on the trip had a strain of dengue and so high temperatures, achy bones and fatigue have been the order of the day.  Much improved now though but we’ve stocked up on all manner of mossie repellents for us and all our subsequent rooms. Although it’s stolen time from us it’s better here than anywhere else – we’ve already seen a lot of Bali, and Nikki’s been to Ubud before.

However, apart from my longing to go see a coffee plantation in operation – probably not a great idea, since most of them seem to use civet cat crap as their starting point (I don’t mind the poo, it’s the captivity that jars) it hasn’t made much difference to what we intended to do. We’ve wandered around the markets, haggled (badly) for some linen shirts that Nikki thinks I look OK in, and smiled at everyone, including other tourists (who mainly look at us as though we’re mad).

Ubud is busy, noisy and fragrant.  Walking is not relaxing as the very narrow pavements are interrupted by sudden large holes, uneven slabs as well as the numerous offerings, canang sari, left to the gods every morning.  It may be alright for the sparrows to help themselves to the rice from an offering but it feels disrespectful to step all over one with big size 6 or 9 feet.  As you walk you go from incense to warung to massage aromas and from cool blasts of air from modern shops to hot humid air from laundries.  Every doorway or small alley turns into a bigger space where a family live or a homestay has set up – all with Ganesha standing welcome at the entrance. Although Indonesia is a Muslim country the overriding impression in Bali is of Hinduism.

As is now traditional I was allowed to go to one museum, and we ended up in the Agung Rai Museum of Art. We were pretty much the only people there and, frankly, it was wonderful, the gardens alone were worth the entrance fee. It was set up by a local successful businessman who started out from a poverty stricken family selling art locally before adapting his family home into a homestay. As well as a museum it is a cultural centre to maintain Balinese customs  and local kids seemed to be doing their Sunday School music practice – have a listen to this …

The more modern art was brilliant, some of it was extraordinary, but the more traditional stuff left me a bit cold. Without understanding the context, the legends and stories behind the pictures, it was a bit hard to appreciate what we were looking at.

Overall I’ve found Ubud a bit odd – it is mainly full of Australians although many other languages were also noticeable. It’s away from the sea, so you don’t get much of the backpacker culture. It’s more retail and a less edgy paradise for people who like their lives curated for them. There is a strong yoga vibe here, which is how it all started, but even that seems to have been overtaken by general tourism (Nikki was disappointed that the Yoga Barn was shut during the time we were here!) Yet it’s still very much Bali – the people are lovely, everyone has a smile just about to break out and rarely do you see anyone expressing so much as impatience, let alone anger. There appears to be harmony between the locals and the tourist – even though the tourist can be an annoying breed who wear too few clothes for the temples, cannot ride scooters very well and enjoy far too many drinks. The current tourist minister wants foreign tourists to see more of Indonesia (we’ll do our best).

The local food is also lovely – at the end of the side road where we’re staying is a little local restaurant – a warung, as they refer to them. It’s hardly signposted, no one’s touting for it unlike on the main roads, it’s just a space where someone’s set up an open kitchen. The sign says it all …

Yet we wander past and it’s always full, so eventually we go in, and the food is all local and all wonderful, and staggeringly cheap. It’s a converted garage, so it’s the Garage Warung. Very down to earth, the Balinese.

We took the downtime opportunity to take a cookery course, but obviously Nikki didn’t want to do something obvious (this is becoming a theme, along with our inability to navigate to anywhere first time), so we ended up on a minibus into the country where we shared a funny afternoon with a group including Americans, Australians, Swiss and Japanese being taught to identify vegetables (honestly, everything looked like lettuce to me) and to make local dishes. Frankly, I think the staff  did a lot of the heavy lifting for us, but it was delicious. The main thing to note about Balinese food is that it’s not going to do anything for your cholesterol – lots of fried food and lots and lots of coconut milk.

Oh, and then there was the therapeutic massage … imagine someone finding the sorest point on your body and then using their elbows to press their entire body weight on it – for a whole hour. It was the most painful thing I’ve experienced short of full-on toothache, and even that’s a close run thing. Yet, two days on most of my aches and pains have gone. If you can bear the sheer bloody agony of it go find Mr Itong. You’ll regret it before you don’t.

And everywhere you go there are monkeys – one dropped in for breakfast. He had balls, you can say that for him …

… but it isn’t surprising, as we’re just up the road from the Monkey Sanctuary, which I dragged Nikki around even though she’d been there last year. It’s actually rather marvellous – they’ve managed to create a sustainable tourist attraction out of a natural resource, and the monkeys pretty much live in peace alongside a whole host of tourists wandering around and taking photos of them doing monkey things. As usual where monkeys are concerned I had my issues – firstly having my pocket picked (it was after a bottle of water, honest) and then being challenged by one I managed to accidentally startle. They have very big teeth …

But our time in Bali is nearly over. Tomorrow we head out by car to Gilmanuk and the ferry crossing to Java. We are going north, away from the temples and beaches, to a land of mosques and volcanos … but more on that another day.

– Tim