Same-Same But Different

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Ubud, by its original Sanskrit definition, means 'medicine' so perhaps it's no wonder that this popular Balinese retreat has become the centre for rest and relaxation with a capital 'one-more-massage-please.' The river that runs through the city is said to have healing powers that ease the mind and body, and so centuries ago, the ancient Balinese settled here and developed many of the traditional restorative practices still used today. Filled with massage tables and yoga mats, Ubud was the perfect place to spend a few days (or six) soaking up all the body cleansings and aura-enhancers my system could handle.

My downtime here (the little of it I managed not to fill with art classes, yoga or massages) was spent in a lovely little hotel, a few rooms circling a lush garden with a few stray monkeys who popped in to say hello (and steal any bananas left unsupervised). For a steal-of-a-deal I ended up with a nice, clean room with a huge bamboo bed decorated with the local batik fabric, a private bathroom complete with a western (yes folks, that means flushable!) toilet and hot water, not to mention the generous breakfasts and morning offerings made on our behalf to the local gods. I soon discovered that all across this island, offerings in the form of colourful little banana-leaf baskets filled with flowers, rice and sometimes even a mento or two, adorn every doorstep and temple as a means of showing thanks and appreciation. Offerings are usually made in the mornings when the cooking for the day is done, the theory being that any pleasure enjoyed on earth must also be made available to the gods. This also means adorning godly stone statues in temple-worthy attire (a sarong and scarf will do) for celebrations, and keeping them dry in the rain. If I had a rupiah for every Ganesha I saw wearing an umbrella hat...

Ubud also happens to be the centre for Balinese arts and culture, where you can find art galleries and museums on every block, and where handicrafts dominate the local trade markets. The museums I visited were an interesting foray into the history and development of Balinese painting, which has stayed true to its origins throughout the centuries. I often couldn't tell the difference between paintings from the late 19th century and those painted this year, at least in terms of subject matter and technique. A more individualistic style of art though wasn't too hard to find, once I set foot in the Blanco Museum. Born in Cataluna in Spain, Don Antonio Blanco moved to Ubud in his early twenties to pursue a life of art under Asian influences. He was quite obviously a free-spirit, though one who took his work and his self-imposed grandeur quite seriously. The museum consists of a large, two-story marble edifice painted in vibrant blues and reds. Hornbills and parrots roam freely around the grounds (which doubles as a bird conservatory) and inside, the music of Andre Botticelli blares. It was a strange and wonderful world, set quite apart from the more tranquil Ubud atmosphere.

I also managed to squeeze in an art class with an internationally-recognized abstract artist by the name of I Wayan Karja. (In Bali, there are only 4 first names, used to denote birth order. 'Wayan' means first born and the 'I' denotes a boy. Girls are represented by 'Ne.') More a philosophy class about the use of colour than an actual art class, he tried to get me to understand and then overcome the intimidation a blank canvas can present to an artist and to feel the colours first, rather than think about them too much. He told me not to worry about creating a masterpiece (though there were a number of impressive paintings in his studio, he felt he still hadn't created his) and just to experiment. Which is what I did. What I ended up with wasn't something I'd hang on a wall, but it was a unique and creative experience from a peaceful man in his treetop studio.

After a few days in Ubud, it wasn't hard to notice that while Bali is still populated with bright green forests and smiling faces, the island has a very unique feel to it, helped by its distinguishable Hindu religion. Temples decorate the island like sprinkles on a donut, each of which has a 'special day' which is cause for celebration. It's no wonder then, that the Balinese spend 210 days each year, performing different celebratory rituals. Temples exist in one of four divisions: genealogical (family temples paying tribute to ancestors), territorial (private village temples), functional (temples attributed to specific gods for specific purposes - the god of fertility or of rice, for example) and public (temples used by anyone and everyone throughout Bali).

Families here live in compounds which are normally shared between 4 families, normally the parents and their sons' families. Each compound belongs to a Bayan which can contain up to 100 members. A village is composed of between 7 - 10 of these large groups. Within the compound are a series of very basic (often without electricity) rooms, one kitchen, a fire pit and of course, the ancestral family temple. The sons remain with the parents throughout their lives, and it is only the daughters who move into their husbands' compounds once married. It was interesting to learn that despite the strong importance of tradition here in Bali, arranged marriages are no longer practiced, and both men and women are free to marry whomever they choose. Family is a significant institution in the Balinese social fabric, and the goal is to make for a happy one. Divorce is rare and socially discouraged.

The Balinese Hindus believe in a cyclical process of reincarnation whereby one's karma in a past life determines the form you take in the next. Man is at the top of this chain, while the lowest form is bamboo. 😊 There are three gods that make up the holy trinity - Brahma as the creator, Vishnu as the protector and Siva as the transformer, who dominate the life cycle from birth through to death and reincarnation. The religion is supported by the belief in the balance of good and bad powers, a belief that prevails in many forms of cultural expression. One of these is the Barong dance, a performance that includes the large, two-man Barong puppet, a mythological animal that represents the eternal fight between good and evil spirits. I was lucky enough to witness one of these performances with a new friend, Livia from Switzerland. I also took in a shadow puppet performance which included some English translation for the more vital plot points - "You need transport to palace, my king?"

Here in Ubud, the mystery of the rice harvest was finally revealed during a cycling tour through the Balinese countryside. Starting off with a pancake breakfast overlooking the gorgeous Gunung Batur and it's neighbouring lake, we cycled through rice paddies and handicraft villages taking in as much information as our relaxed mushbrains could handle. Rice is harvested every four to five months and can grow year-round. The fields are terraced to help with irrigation that comes from a canal water system controlled throughout Bali by an external organization to prevent disputes between farmers. Some of the harvested grains are used to make seedlings which are then replanted and meticulously cultivated by farmers who well understand the delicate balance between too much and too little water. Once the rice is ready, it is chopped down and the rice grains are bashed against a wooden slat to free them from their stalks. The grains, before drying, are quite milky inside and well-loved by the birds. For this reason, men sit year-round in small central huts, pulling long lengths of string tied across the fields to scare away the birds. Once the grains are dried, the husks are removed and the rice is ready to be sold. It's so valuable here, the workers accept wages paid in rice, rather than cash.

Along the cycle tour, I also had the opportunity to try a special brand of Balinese coffee, produced through the careful and very selective processes of the civet, a picky, cat-like animal that eats coffee cherries (and only the best ones) and who's digestive enzymes apparently give the beans a special je ne sais quoi. When the beans are passed, they are collected, cleaned (thoroughly) and roasted to produce the exclusive (and world's most expensive) coffee called Kopi Luwak (or cat poop coffee). Apparently this stuff sells for around 30 euros a cup in European cafes. I got to try mine for an affordable $3. It was... interesting.

The tour was capped off by 10km of intensive uphill riding (in the rain), a feast of a lunch, and then my very first ever massage. The Balinese know their muscle tissue and those hands were so good, I immediately booked a second massage for the next day. Around these parts, an hour costs you about $6. A hard deal to turn down.

A final spectacular experience was an introduction into the elaborate cremation ceremonies in Bali. While strolling through the back lanes and rice fields with Livia, a friendly local asked us where we were going and suggested we accompany him to his village where this ceremony was to take place. The deceased was an elderly woman who was of the highest caste and who therefore was due a lavish ceremony. Following a large feast for family and friends, the body was first placed in a hand-made and intricately decorated golden tower. Ahead of the tower was a large constructed animal symbolizing the caste, in this case a bull. Carried on a network of bamboo logs by 25 men, both the bull and tower were paraded down the streets with drums to keep pace, shaking the tower violently from side to side in order to separate the materialistic corpse from the soul. Once the soul had been freed, the body was placed inside the animal and then burned. The whole process took a good two hours, but it was a fascinating opportunity to learn about this important Balinese ritual.

The rest of my days here were spent taking some yoga, eating lovely organic foods, shopping (oh man did my wallet get a workout) and enjoying the wonderful atmosphere this little part of Bali has to offer. Now it's on to the small island off the southern coast, Nusa Lembongan, where the fabled mola mola are said to swim. Fingers crossed I get lucky lucky.

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Photos

Kite Run
Kites are a huge part of Balinese culture. Watching this little guy try to get his overhead was quite amusing.

Nice Monkey!
Sure he looks placid now, but try waving a banana in front of his face.