Ubud is artistic mecca about 2 hours from Candidasa, famous for the creative climate, spiritual awareness, and the book Eat Pray Love. Local artists seem to specialize most in silver smithing, stone carving, painting, and wood working. Naturally the renound art and the fame of Eat Pray Love have attracted a prolific number of tourists, and while Ubud is much smaller than the capitol Den Pessar, it is significantly busier. Tourists are as numerous as blades of grass on a golf course. Local merchants seak you out in a crowd like ants on a sugar trail. Wending through the central market felt strikingly similar to coursing through a shopping mall on Black Friday with a nasty migrane and wearing shoes two sizes to small. I do admit my unrelenting bias against large and busy crowds, but you none the less get the point. Safe to say we spent the vast majority of our time in Ubud outside the city center (i.e. outside the central market). Ironically, it seemed that the best art was not in central Ubud anyway, but rather in the outer edges of Ubud proper. On our way into town for example, Toliman stopped at several thematic spots for artistry: a silver smithy, an art gallery, and a famous wood carving shop. The most impressive was the wood carving without question. Below is a small section of a 7 x 4 foot wooden tapestry made from 1 piece of solid wood that took over 1 year to make exclusively by hand (as the artist's sole project!). And truly, there are five or six other picture of equally impressive wood carving whose picture we could show instead (e.g. a 6 foot tall carving of a dragon pouncing on a legendary beast, also made from 1 piece of wood, and emaculately detailed as below).
7 foot by 4 foot wood piece
When we finished at admiring the wood carvings Toliman drove
us to our hotel in Ubud, "Michi Village." Where to start with this
place. Well, Michi Village is exactly that, a small village; or a large
compound really. It was built into a hill on a ravine overlooking the water
below and an extensive rice field on the opposing hill. Sometimes during lunch
we would gaze across the gap to the rice field and see one or two rogue field
workers. The Michi restaraunt rests on the precipice of a 50 foot sheer drop
down to the river , along which several caves delve into the hillside, inviting
both mystery and wonder ( I can't help but think that the Java Man was found
within 50 miles of Michi, also near a cave and along a riverbank). Michi itself
is a sort of quiet dreamland. It sprawls along the hillside over the course of
several hundred meters, It's constitution is mostly colorful mosaic rock and
glass, and flowing stone angles as if carved from water; Japanese style rooves;
tile and grout: Gaudi meets F.L. Wright meets an Arabic cathedral. One walks
onto the grounds and says, "This is impossible." And yet, it is. And
yet, it remains distincly Balinesian. It looks as if it was orininally a small
set of buildings, and as the years went by additions were made where they best
fit. And so, Michi is 300 sprawling yards of random, unorderly, charming
village. In fact, as its creator says of it, "Michi is a tapestry."
One cannot discuss Michi without discussing its creator, who
goes by "the professor." An elderly, Manchurian born, but ex-patriot
of a dozen or so countries, who for the most part now remembers only English
and Japanese, man who taught Cultural Anthropology for the greater period of
his life, and is the author of 11 books, is Michi Village personified. In many
ways, he is your classic absent minded professor, who lives among his privacy
and books and clutter, but who is miraculously not disorganized. We had the
pleasure of spending a few hours one evening drinking sake with him and
discussing topics as mundane and necessary as where we were from, to the the
trash problems in Bali, to the philosophical problem concerning identity: what
really constitutes who a person is, their experiences or something deeper, or
both - are we more than we can account for in our memories? He is one of those
rare people you come across in your life who you will never forget and will
always remain enigmatic. He did however, impart us with his card and asked us
to keep in touch.
Michi spreading out along the ravine hillside, with a small view of the water below. Rice fields are off camera to the left.
After spending a day absorbing Michi and the downtown sector
of Ubud, we signed up to take a silver working class. Now, as I mentioned, the
silver/gold smithing in Bali (especially Ubud) is a prolific and highly prized
artform. Whereas in the states you would hardpressed to find gold higher than
18k, the standard karrot in Bali is 22, and the silver is all 92.5%. We were
impressed that for $40, we had the opportunity to design, create, and keep our
own piece of silver jewelry. Natalie and I arrived in the morning at the silver
smithy, which turned out to be a guys house, and we were the only people taking
the class that day. So, we received a "private lesson" of sorts. Our
instructor Wayan was an incredibly charming man, who might in a word be summed as
joyful. He had this habit of clapping his hands together and closing his eyes
when something pleased him greatly. He was a fabulous instructor, who was
unimposing and let you do as much as you wanted, but who was also happy to take
over when needed. It was great fun and he even served us the special coffee
(which was absolutely delicious!) that is harvested from Civet droppings, aptly
called Civet Coffee; he was kind enough to tell us what kind of coffee it was
after we drank, but the brew was so delicious we did not care and we even asked for more. Below are
some pictures of me working and another of Wayan and I.
Forest will suffice to establish the trust that these
monkeys really were foul and nasty creatures, but nonetheless extremely
entertaining. The Monkey Forest is exactly what it sounds like: it is a small
forest near central Ubud, with a paved walking path, along which several
hundred torists go to see the local monkeys. At the various entrances into the
forest, locals sell bananas and nuts for people to feed to monkeys.
Fortunately, we were warned ahead of time not to buy bananas. Once you enter
the forest, you are literally surrounded by little monkeys. They are totally
comfortable around humans. They lounge in the middle of the path, attempt to
climb on you, fearless. Furthermore, without going into great detail, I will
just say that if humans were to act in the likeness of these monkeys they would
swiftly find themselves at the local precinct with a harrassment charge among
others. I've seen roadside bathrooms that were cleaner than these monkeys. Well
in the center of the small forest is a large square in which monkeys and people
alike gather in great numbers, and here people who have bought bananas feed
them to the Monkeys, or sit down and put the foot on their heads to let the
monkeys climb on them and take it from their heads. More aggressive monkeys who
either correctly or incorecctly figured that someone had food would jump on and
strip search people in search of food. One unfortunate Frenchman managed to
quickly find both his shorts and underwear on the ground with a monkey clinging
to them, "nope, no food in there." Another man decided he wanted to
get a close-up video of two rival monkey factions in action against each other,
and much to his chagrin (and probably anyone who eventually watched the video)
one of the monkeys he was filming turned around and sprayed at him - lesson
learned. Natalie and I, after having seen the monkeys' general disregard for
hygene, were fortunate enough and wary enough to escape the forest untouched,
though greatly entertained by the tourists' equal disgregard for the monkeys
hygene. One time in the monkey forest was enough.
Despite my feelings, it's hard not to find this adorable.
Although we never returned to the Monkey Forest, we
did spend a great majority of our time in Ubud shopping along the road adjacent
to it, “Monkey Forest Road.” People in Ubud keep things straightforward. Though
I mentioned earlier that much of the art is made outside the city, the shopping
is in the city and therefore the art filters its way into the city. This
shopping was not like shopping in the markets however. Along the 2 miles or so
that comprise this road are probably four or five hundred shops – all of them
being almost exclusively and in order of frequency: clothing shops,
restaurants, silver shops, wood working shops, a few art shops, and various
combinations of these things. You would think that the redundancy would make it
boring, but the vast range of flavor of each shop was enough to keep us heading
back along Monkey Forest Road everyday of our time in Ubud. The clothing was
well stitched and tailored, with bright colors and rather fashion forward. The
silver shops carried jewelry that upheld the meticulous standard for detail and
perfection, creative and thoughtful designs which, because I never saw the same
pair of jewelry twice, make me think that most of the jewelry was one of a
kind.
Now, as you can imagine, shopping in Ubud is not the
same as shopping in the states. Here, you check the price tag, make a decision
about whether that price is worth your money, and then you may or may not buy.
In Ubud, you do not look at a price tag. You ask the shop owner the price. They
will say their price, for example 200,000 rupees (20 dollars). You do not like
the price they say. It doesn’t matter what the price is, because as a matter of
principle you never like the price they say. So when they say the price is
200,000r, you simply reply, “I’ll give you 70,” (generally offer about 2/5 the
total price). And from there most transactions will settle at around 3/5 the
price, or if you get a good deal ½ the price. To put this in perspective, in
our whole time in Bali, we only came across two shops in which the listed price
was the actual price – nonnegotiable. I’ll admit, at first it feels a little
strange offering what seems like such lowball offers : it feels rude,
especially considering relative to them we are very wealthy. But this is their
culture, this is common to them, and making such low counter offers is their
expectation. And the shopkeepers know their own limits too, and they will not
acquiesce below what they consider to be fair. It certainly made me feel good
when, on several occasions, I walked out of the store not having bought
anything because the shopkeeper and I could not agree on a price. They are poor,
but they are honorable people and will not sell their self-respect for the
almighty dollar. There is a great deal to respect in that.
A common shop with wood carvings, some baskets, and clothes.
We spent a majority of our time in Ubud between
Michi and Monkey Forest Road, but perhaps the highlight of our time in Ubud was
the Trek we took just outside of the central square. Technically, the routed
Trek starts at the before mentioned central market. Starting there, I had my
doubts about the upcoming “scenic” Trek. Much to my surprise, a short 10
minutes later, we found ourselves suddenly entering a quiet, riverside path with
climbed up into hills and the ridge standing sentinel above the city. You get
to the top and look down: grass, green grass long and soft; each blade distinct
but melting into the uniform green stroke; blades bent in long carved paths
where the wind stepped down the mountain side. You get to the top and walk
along the ridge, gently a light breeze whispers in your ear, a clear blue sky,
on our honeymoon, only peace. Now I know what Van Gogh meant.
Our Ubud trek along Campuan Ridge above the Gunung Agung River
Relaxing with Natalie and chess.
And so finally we arrived at our last day in Ubud,
and our last day in Bali. To our great delight, a water pipe exploded sometime
in the night, and the faucets exuded no water. This promised us 24 hours in
airplanes and airports unshowered and unbrushed. About an hour before we left,
they patched the faucet up enough that the hot water (scalding hot) was able to
trickle out of the faucet. It was a barely mediocre sight to see at best. But
alas, we were at least able to wet ourselves and take a hot sponge bath, kind
of. Despite this minor setback, we have nothing but the best memories of Michi,
Trekking, shopping, fine dining (which was every meal!), and even the Monkey
Forest remains a wildly entertaining memory. So with elated spirits, and with a
bit of regret at having to say goodbye, our cab took us to the airport. And the
rest they say is history.
Saying goodbye!
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