Bali - Ubud

We cycled to town of Ubud, located in the uplands of Bali. Set amongst lush rain forest and rice terraces and dotted with many holy Hindu Temples and Shrines, the region would seem to represent the Bali of magazine articles, travel blogs and social media feeds.

The town of Ubud and its surrounding villages are known for their arts, culture and crafts.

From the 1960’s onward, tourism has increased rapidly and Ubud receives several million visitors a year, If the figures are correct it means that the weekly total of visitors outnumbers the population by about 5:1. It would be interesting to see what, if any, impact this had on the town.

Cycling to Ubud we hoped for a chance to see some more of the countryside and hopefully, experience some ‘normal’ Bali life…

On the road…

It’s wonderful what can be carried on a moped. As we cycled along, we saw motorcycles with baskets of chickens attached and men riding along balancing long bundles of bamboo!
Other with ladders and tools, women with bunches of foliage cut from the fields, scooters with multiple family members on them…and the odd dog being given a ride (many people didn’t bother with crash helmets and neither did the dogs).
I’d say that the moped is embedded in the way of life here. The women riding pillion, seated side saddle, relaxed and with poise. They seem to have little need to put arms around their driver, or hold onto the bike as they zipped along. Many passengers often held something, so had no ‘free arms’ with which to cling on! Collecting the kids from school, the adults drove, whilst the kids stood on the footplate, cradled between the adults legs. We witnessed solo children riding motorcycles, some seemed of an early school age, and appeared at ease. This made sense, as we spotted toddlers, and even babies riding along with their parents and siblings.

A nation of shopkeepers.

We passed many small shop fronts, open to the road. Often dark, belying their main purpose and with produce set out on small table front, or goods piled on shelves, or hung from an awning. The proprietor sat patiently or dozed, sprawled out on a wooden platform, as they waited for business. They would often be cooking up something on a grill or makeshift stove. Smoke billowed across the road as we passed through a ‘scent cocktail’ of smoke and cooking meat. These ‘shops’ are called warungs. A warung is a type of small family-owned business, such as a store , stall or place to eat, or a mixture. They are simple and many warungs sell the same things. They appear confusing to us as signage is often limited, or non-existent, or in Indonesian and so far from our western idea of a shop or eatery.

Arriving in Ubud.

As we arrived into the outskirts of Ubud, traffic picked up the road was now much busier. Arriving early afternoon, we crawled along the main road toward the centre. The narrow road and amount of vehicles meant a laborious staccato of stop, start, stop for what seemed like an age. Our clothes, now wet and clingy with sweat, had moulded to our bodies, our tops vacuum packed, clinging tight to our torsos. The fumes and heat of exhausts and engines from surrounding vehicles added to the mix of what was a heady miasma. Mopeds crept along the road to the left of the cars, sneaking yards by riding in the gutter, or mounting the path. We followed suit, keen to break out.

Eventually we arrived at a cafe, where we pulled in for some food. Slightly off the main drag, Suka Expresso was a respite from the heat and fumes. We dismounted, sweat dripping from our faces, we were not calm and cool like some of the other tourist couples who arrived by moped. That is, cool (as in, not sweaty) and cool (as in, like they were in an Italian movie). Our appearance didn’t put off the cheery cafe staff, who welcomed us to a table outside. After some food, liquid and rest under a most welcome roof fan, we continued through the constant hum of smelly vehicles to reach our accommodation.

Reaching our homestay.

We arrived at our home stay, hidden behind a large wall, broken by a typical gate of double doors, intricately carved and painted bright colours. The stairway of high steps led up to the doors guarding an inner compound and threshold to what looked a temple!
Amanda went in to check us in and came out smiling. The reason for this was the place was a very very beautiful traditional Balinese home. Entering the compound was like stepping into a calm bubble. Greeted by a serene statue of Ganesha who provided a friendly but vigilant welcome at the door to the street, we climbed down the steps into a quiet courtyard with trees and potted plants. Incense wafted through the air, lingering from the mornings offerings. Running water falling into a small water pool provided the only sound. The inner compound contained several small ‘houses’, outdoor shelters for rest and several personal shrines. It was truly amazing. Ornately decorated with carved stone idols, friezes and painted woodwork, depicting stories and characters from Hinduism, we likened it to staying in a palace.

The Gedong family and staff made us feel very welcome. Speaking to Mr. Gedong later in our stay, he explained that he was a speciality Balinese architect and had designed the carvings himself, including the statue of Ganesha. He had overseen the creation of his ideas on wood and stone by a team of 20 or so craftsman over many man hours. Many of the images came to him while he slept he told us, and he then drew these out on paper before honing the designs ready for them to be created. He was a lovely man and he wished us well on our travels as he departed for a relative’s funeral, dressed in his finest white formal dress gown and headscarf. Our stay here was my favourite memory of Ubud.

Final thoughts;

After wandering the streets of Ubud, I had mixed feelings about the place.

Tourism is about 80% of the Bali economy and Ubud especially feels like it is set up to cater for the tourist. Lots of cafes and restaurants with similar (natural boutique) decor and international menus, with an emphasis on healthy food - juices, smoothies, poke bowls and açai bowls. There is nothing Indonesian about these places: once inside you could be anywhere in the world. There are also numerous places offering yoga, spa, beauty treatments and massages.

The streets were full of small stalls selling shirts, sarongs and vests. How do they all survive? Many stall holders say hello. They want your business of course. Some proprietors are nice and others less so, more mercenary and a bit more insistent. I am not good at hard-nosed negotiating, and so probably paid too much for a sarong to use for temple visits. I later saw them elsewhere costing much less. The lady was canny. Well done to her.

Many items did not have a visible price - of course one should always ask but it is also difficult to browse. Showing any kind of interest seems to indicate you have entered an ‘invisible contract’ to buy something, like shaking someone’s hand and then finding it difficult to let go. Often, you are observed or ‘helped’. Falling back on my British sensibilities, I tended to avoid the whole thing. Fortunately, travelling by bike means we are not interested in buying much, unless it’s practical.

There were many tourists on scooters - either grabbing a Gojek (like Uber but on a moped) or riding a hired one. They buzzed along through the streets and backroads, appearing at cafes and temples. Mostly couples - the guy wearing shorts and a vest or often shirtless, and girl, in a floaty dress, often holding a mobile phone and most seemed to be young and European.

The area may have been a quiet place, discovered by adventure travellers ahead of the curve and by those who were seeking a hippy bohemian lifestyle, or those with a more spiritual slant.
For me, the place felt a bit over saturated and is quite mainstream and all of us who visit now tread a well worn path, that is less authentic. The scales seem to have tipped toward the visitors. Although we only visited for a small time, being in this place felt like a being is a surreal bubble, like being a character in the film ‘The Truman Show’ but within a false facade dominated by the trappings of mass tourism rather than a true representation of a more traditional Bali. I hope that we find the real Bali during our journey.Read more