Bali: A Relaxing Trip to the Isle of the Gods
The Indian Ocean glistened at mid-day, as it reflected an azure sky that was unencumbered by any cloud on this early May weekend. The tide was not yet too low, and the wind pressure was just ideal. It was a good day for parasailing. As the instructor below shouted through his megaphone ‘let go, let go of your grip!’(read: relax, forget about work for a few minutes!) I floated gently upwards and slowly got a bird’s eye view of the island – stretches of white sand, taller varieties of palm trees swaying gently and shading the nipa huts and low-lying resort bungalows below, and rows of jetskis and motorboats near the shore. From this vantage point, I could see a beautiful tropical island, albeit might not be too distinct from the others around Asia. But as I learned earlier, the beauty of this one, was not so much its shores and beaches, but rather its people and their distinct crafts and culture inland.
I grew up in a sleepy town with nary a public library, much less a good collection of books. When I was 10 or 11, I had just about read all the more interesting books at home, including those left behind by my older relatives who have migrated elsewhere. I went to scavenge more reading materials at my neighbor’s and found a slim novel about a couple who lived in an island called Isle of the Gods. I distinctly remember the description of the rice paddies, the gentle folks, the temples, and the way of life, but for the life of me, I could not recall what the story was all about – perhaps an indication that the narrative itself was immaterial, but the setting obviously left a more profound impression that since then, I have always thought of Bali as a unique paradise with the most gentle of people.
I first visited Bali 13 years ago - I had seen the rice paddies and terraces I read about as a child, I met the gentle folks, had my authentic Nasi Goreng. But being a first-time visitor then I was naturally pulled towards the more popular itinerary served to tourists like me – shopping at Kuta, dining at Jimbaran, buying the requisite Batik souvenir, watching Kecak, visiting a few temples. I stayed in a big touristy hotel – the resort was quite impressive, my room overlooked the beach, and I could see the waves splashing high, perfect for surf lovers. In retrospect, I felt something was missing then mainly because I was experiencing Bali like any wide-eyed tourist.
On this more recent visit with my family, I experienced Bali at a tempo more adjusted to the island rhythmn. There was no strict itinerary, there was no rush to cover all the touristy places, no pressure to shop - but rather, a constant nudge from my husband who deftly steered me away from the shops every time I was about to close what I thought was a bargain deal, reminding me that I should not be buying anymore unnecessary trinkets until I've cleared up the clutter that found their way all over our house.
On this trip, I just went with the flow, I spent more time soaking up the scene from a beach lounger, at times sipping reviving Balinese coffee. Despite a lack of itinerary though, we seemed to have covered a few interesting places - we managed to check out a few of the extensive galleries in and around Ubud, we visited a local artisan's house to see his wood sculptures, cycled a bit along the coastline, and even had a Jamu massage. On the latter, I chose one that was infused with blissful aromatic fragrance, which effectively restored a very sore spine - sore not so much from the biking, but from the accumulated stress of daily life.
While I had watched Kecak before, I couldn't recall the details of the earlier one anymore. This time, the arena where Kecak was to be held was in a cliff that rose up high from the ocean below. Whenever I see cliffs that drop into the sea, I am reminded of Wuthering Heights. But this one was not rugged or barren. It was lush with trees and vegetation, and on this balmy evening, it was teeming with tourists from all sides of the globe. As the orange sky started to get tinged with gray, signaling the onset of dusk, spectators started streaming in to the open-air coliseum/ arena. At a few minutes past six, with the sky favoring gray more than gold now, and the earlier azure ocean now fading and blending with the darkness, Balinese men garbed in black-and-white checked kilts filled the arena with their Kecak chants! Then the Rama and Sita story began to unfold. Those unfamiliar with the story might find the almost monotonous chanting boring – it might help to read the synopsis distributed to the audience beforehand. In fact, there were a few tourists that day who left in the middle of the show, and therefore distracting the more engaged audience. Perhaps that it was just a $7 show made it easier for them to leave without finishing the play. The play may not be the best in theater, but the scenic setting alone was worth more than $7. After the play, it was totally dark in the forest, the sea was no longer distinct from the horizon, but for the fishermen’s light ashore, like the Saint Elmo’s Fire. Out in the plaza, it was all quiet, darkness enveloping the trees. There were no monkeys to be afraid of this time around – earlier in the day they were lurking and waiting for a chance to grab something from the visitors. I wouldn’t be surprised if the smart monkeys were already lulled into sleep by the peace and quietude of the hills at night. While waiting for our car, I looked up to a moonless night, but it was not too dark for there, brighter than I could remember stars would be, were myriad of them dotting the night sky – I could follow the Big Dipper’s pattern, as it stood out more clearly than at other times, and proudly pointed it out to my daughter who promptly nodded her head in recognition as well.
We had a couple of lunches at Warung-style, boutique local restaurants without any signages, but which served one of the more sumptuous lunches I could remember. On both occasions, the restaurants overlooked lush rice paddies, bordered by tall palm trees. One had a solitary nipa hut in the middle - while solitary, it did not look at all forlorn nor beaten, but rather an inviting solace perhaps to shield a farmer from the scorching heat at mid-day, or perhaps a place for him to simply sit and catch his breath as he contemplates on a bountiful harvest. In another, two kids were running around, their carefreeness seemingly borne by and reverberating through the wind. They were tugging at kites which looked like two soaring eagles - on that day, they were the only obstruction on an otherwise clear, blue sky.
And as I gazed amusedly at the scene before me, I got reminded of that book I read years back when I was probably about the same age as those two young boys - this was the charming Bali that I romanticized about, the same Bali that the two boys are blessed to live in everyday.
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A good way to take a bird's eye view of Bali, on a clear, cloudless day
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A typical hut
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Gateway to the Beach at Sanur
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Entrance of Tandjung Sari - a laidback small hotel in Sanur. There is no TV in the room, but there is wi-fi for the city slickers who couldn't afford to go totally off-the-grid.
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A gallery courtyard - Neka. In and around Ubud, there are many galleries worth checking out. The gallery entrances are generally nondescript. But once inside, I was amazed at the vast collections ranging from folk to modern art
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Entrance to one of the bungalows at Agung Rai Gallery complex. This is probably one of the biggest in/around Ubud, with seven or so bungalows in the complex, each bungalow housing one art genre
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The almost requisite Kecak - popular among tourists; and at $7 entrance ticket, it's not a bad deal. The scenic vista on the way to the small arena is in itself a feast for the eyes. Beware of the monkeys though along the hills - they are too smart they could deftly grab spectacles/earrings, and I heard even shoes/slippers, from unknowing tourists. And these monkeys would only let go of their 'loot' if given enough food pouches in exchange.
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Sunset hanging over the Kecak spectators - Uluwatu hills
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Sunset at Uluwatu hills
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| Road scene on the way to Ubud. According to our Balinese friend Mas, each of the villages excels on a particular craft. This village is into stone sculptures. We also passed by rows and rows of woodcrafts, silver, glass art, and the huge local market for visual arts at Sukowati |
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| A warung-like local restaurant. Most of the doors and gates in Bali have elaborate carvings as this one |
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| The vista from the Warung - with a view like this during lunch, one could really linger and forget about the ticking of the clock #Bali |
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| Balinese cuppa to cap off a sumptuous lunch |
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| One of the great pleasures of childhood - the freedom of running around green fields, flying kites #Bali |
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| A new beginning - the sun starts to rise abovethe Indian Ocean #Bali |
#Bali #Travels #Indonesia #Ubud #ARMAGallery #TandjungSari #NekaGallery
