UBUD: DAMN THOSE COCONUT TREES!

I shall preface this entry by declaring that while I am into history (including mythology), natural scenery and having my breath taken away by the grandeur and splendor of ancient monuments, culture and the arts are more often than not lost, or should I say, wasted on me. Suffice to say, Ubud was, for the most part, not memorable.

As our bus pulled into Ubud, one of the first impressions I had, apart from the ubiquity of Balinese art and craft shops, was the chaotic traffic and not to mention, the pollution. Tell me again Kuta is worse, how? (But Ubud is more likable for reasons I shall elaborate on later.) I stayed on a quiet lane off the main road. I do not understand why they laughed when I told the staff at Perama (Ubud) that I would like go to Jalan Kajeng. Don’t you hate it when they do that? (Nevertheless, Perama rocks!) One of the touts hanging around in the office told me with a smirk that it was very far away (well, not from the city centre but from the Perama office that was in the middle of nowhere). I wanted to tell him that was the point but decided against it. I doubt he would understand. He offered to send me right to the doorstep of my guesthouse for 10,000 rupiah. I declined and patiently waited for a mini-bus transfer for half the price (Frankly, the difference would hardly make a dent on the wallet but I preferred not to do business with touts if I could help it), although it would only drop me off at the intersection of the main road (Jalan Raya Ubud) and Jalan Kajeng. I later realized why. Jalan Kajeng was too narrow for any vehicle bigger than a motorcycle. Perfect!

Thankfully, the guesthouse I had short-listed from the Lonely Planet’s list of budget accommodation was not too far from the street entrance. I was worried because the backpacker’s bible says some guesthouses are one kilometer north of the city centre. Now, that’s far!

Hyped up by the rave review, which says, “… opens onto a lavish garden where comfortable rooms are perched, overlooking a swimming pool with a café. Excellent valley panorama”, I was caught unprepared by the (slight) shortfall in expectations. But I was too lazy to hunt for an alternative (not with my luggage in tow under the sweltering afternoon sun), even though I was spoilt for choice on the street alone. Besides, the staff was friendly. In the end, I settled for the nearest available room to the restaurant and the pool (which was too miniscule for even a couple of strokes). It was a pleasant change of scene from Nusa Lembongan, which, by the way, is still my favourite place in Bali. I was thankful for the fresh water (not salt water) flowing out from my tap and the sand-free environment.

Despite the seemingly inconvenient location of my guesthouse, it was just a stone’s throw away from Ubud Palace, the only ‘attraction’ in Ubud that I was remotely interested in. I was taken aback by how small and modest the palace was. It was nothing like the ostentatious Grand Palace of Bangkok or the sprawling Forbidden City in Beijing. It could have been one of the many guesthouses in Ubud, whose architecture and décor were quintessentially ancient Balinese replete with statues of demigods and mythological creatures. By the way, I thought my guesthouse looked prettier. Anyway, most of the premises were cordoned off. The rest, I suppose, were rooms, which one could stay in for the night.

The next morning, I took the advice of the traveller’s holy book and did one of the recommended walks. It went well initially, but as always I got lost eventually and ended up somewhere else. By the time I finally got down to River Agung (the climb down the steep, slippery slope was quite a challenge), I realized I was at the south of the Four Seasons Sayan Resort and the Sayan Terrace when I should be at the north of them. There was no shortcut along the river unless I could walk on water. There was a narrow, flimsy looking wooden plank, which would get me across to the other side where the rice terraces were. However, I decided it was not worth the risk and be content with admiring the lush greenery of Tegalkuning from afar. The late morning sun soon became too intense, and it was time to head back, but not before a short jaunt across the rice fields at Sayan. Did I mention that the locals were so friendly and generous with their smiles? I could not say the same for the dogs, though. The hatred was mutual. I did not make it back to the guesthouse in time for breakfast. I took a quick dip into the refreshingly cool pool and headed out for a hearty lunch.

Well, every meal in Ubud was a gastronomic delight. Cheap and delicious Balinese cuisine was everywhere to be found. Balinese specialties like babi guling (suckling pig), bebek goreng (crispy duck) and ayam panggang bali (chicken something) are to die for.

Food is not the only reason to like Ubud. Ubud is a spa haven. I visited one of the mid-range spas recommended by Lonely Planet. As I had never tried Balinese massage and did not know what to expect, I signed up for just a one-hour oil massage. Wow. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. It was so relaxing and nothing like the painful, bone cracking Thai variety. The best part was, it was as cheap, if not cheaper than having one at a similar establishment in Thailand. I will be back for more.

Mr. Webee came by the guesthouse on my last day to pick me up for a whirlwind tour of Bali. The first stop was the rice terraces at Tegalalang, a few kilometers north of Ubud. They were every bit as picturesque as seen in the postcards. It was a pity there were too many coconut trees that obscured the view, and there was no way I could get down to the rice terraces. Sensing my disappointment, Mr. Webee drove me to Pura Gunung Kawi (loosely translated as “The Ancient Mountain Temple”) at Tampaksiring. The temple itself was nothing to write home about. But what pleased me immensely were the rice terraces. I had a field day walking along the contours and camwhoring. I usually hate doing that. But I did not know what came over me. Perhaps, I was too happy.

The next stop was Kintamani, most famous for Mount Batur. We drove to the viewing point at Penelokan, where you get a panoramic view of the volcano and the nearby Lake Batur. I was speechless, but not for long. Lonely Planet advises you to get out as soon as you have taken the obligatory photographs. I could fully appreciate the wisdom in it when I was there. The vendors were amongst the most aggressive ones I have ever encountered. We fled within minutes.

With too much time left before sunset, we stopped over at Taman Ayun, since it was on the way to Tanah Lot. It was pouring when we were there. I found sightseeing in the rain both silly and amusing. Fortunately for me, I was not the only umbrella-toting tourist around, so there were others to share the embarrassment. That is the problem with joining tours or hiring a driver in advance. You cannot back out when the weather does not cooperate. Oh, the temple? It left nary an impression on me.

The final stop was Tanah Lot. In spite of the impending downpour, the place was fairly crowded with locals and tourists alike. I guess we were all lingering in hope that the dark clouds would miraculously disperse before sunset. Then, it rained and stopped and rained again, rendering sunset photography an exercise in futility. Many of us finally faced up to the truth and left in disappointment.

I had seen many outstanding sunset photographs of Tanah Lot. There was even a beautiful painting of the scene in my room, which I have included in this entry. While to replicate the photographic mastery of my predecessors would be wishful thinking on my part, they had conjured a romanticized mental image. (I know it is silly but I could not help it.) Sacred. Awe-inspiring. Tanah Lot turned out not, regardless of the weather. A tourist trap would be a more befitting description. Some things are better off imagined than be seen.

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