Ubud1

Elaine,

Ubud is magical. That's what they say about Ubud. My last visit to Ubud confirmed that image in my mind.

I left Sanur around three, dead tired - having spent only a few hours on sleep the night earlier. I was half asleep in the hired car when I smelled something and sat right up. We reached the southern part of Ubud. It is really interesting how my body tuned in to Ubud's ambiance without all of my senses being awake. How could I tell it was Ubud? Well, for one thing, it became cooler. The street became windier. There would be dense groups of large stemmed bamboes at most turnings of that winding streets. And after a while you would spot a serial of handicraft shops, one after another. More often than not they would sell exactly the same type of goods for about half a kilometer, and then the next half offer a different type of range etc.

Here in Ubud the spell was immediately felt. It was something familiar to me. I felt home. I started to roll down the window, letting the fresh breeze filled in the car. Ubud seemed more prosperous than the last time I was here, a year ago. I suspect the annual Ubud Writers' festival make this big "village" more famous, therefore more tourists spent their dollars here.

I was planning to stay at my usual and favorite inn, Sania Bungalow. Apparently the Sita Dewi street nearby Sania, was in a different one-way direction than what I knew from last year. Instead of going from Hanuman towards Monkey forest, now it is exactly the oposite. I became disoriented. I noticed that the upper part of Monkey forest was now becoming trendier, the shops looked appealing, the cafes sophisticated. And I reckoned I did not have much energy nor time to carry myself around the streets of Ubud. Pertiwi Resort seemed to be the perfect choice. It was situated between cafes, shops, grocery stores etc. I took a room at one bungalow on second floor overlooking the courtyard. I spent the first two hours in Ubud sleeping like a dead log with all the windows and the door towards balcony open. The bed was located next to the window. So the last thing I remembered before drifting into a glorious deep sleep was "Gosh, how blue the Ubud sky was seen from this window and how those leaves made a beautiful frame of this beautiful sight".

When I woke up, it was already dark. I changed, drew some cash out of an ATM machine across the hotel and went up and down the street trying to choose which restaurant to have my dinner in. I did not feel well, and the weather was cool so I put on a crocheted sort of poncho on me. Very soon I realised how I dressed was so out of place. Everyone was wearing thin cotton summer frocks or shirts and here I was, a middle aged woman wrapped up to the neck, ready to fight away threats of colds and drafts. But I did not care. This is my country, my time and I was not going to dress in compliance to anyone's norm and expectation.

The Wayan's, which is only next door, despite all those new cafes sprang up nearby, still was my number one choice. First because it was an old - respected landmark of Ubud's cuisine game. Secondly, because when I first learned about Wayan, I did not have much money. Those days I had to save even to buy a piece of those delicious looking pastries and cakes of Wayan. It was small then. I always chose to sit at the garden, a bit further down from the main entrance. Looking at the garden seats, the feeling of "out of this world" that I used to feel whenever I had my breakfast in the old Wayan's came back. I remember feeling so sophisticated, sitting with a book and savouring the sunny side up on a toast, a bowl of fresh fruit salad and black coffee.

Now Wayan's has polished it's main lobby. The restaurant manager - a friendly man looking so humble but dignified - greeted regulars by their names. I chose Thai curry with rice. Did I like it? Well, I don't know whether this was the authentic one. I suspect that it had been tailored to suit foreign palate. To me it tasted like Javanese vegetable dish, cooked in coconut milk, "lodeh", with an addition of a few drops of lime squeeze.

A glass of beautiful looking tall glass, with lemon grass stalk propped as a stirrer, came to my desk. The Manager was kind enough to give me (free!!) ginger drink with honey and lemon. Hot! Well, earlier he chatted with me and found out that I was a bit under the weather.

I went back to the hotel happy and soon dreamt of swimming in the lake of Batoer.

My flight the next day was on 12.55, meaning that I had to leave Ubud at 11. Well, plenty of time, so I thought.

I took my leasure time at the "GreenHouse", Pertiwi's sidewalk restaurant, where breakfast was served. There was this slogan of a website on hotels all over the world- it says : wake up happy. That was exactly the words in buzzing around my head while I was attacking the food. How could not I? I was presented with a choice to sit on one of those little cute tables lined up against several panels of glass french windows overlooking the street. In fact you could step out of the window onto the freshly swept street. Sun rays came through those panels and made a cute pattern on a platter of freshly cut tropical fruit. The usual and commonly found fresh fruit salad took a new twist here. Mango, pineapple, watermelon, honeydew were cut in bigger pieces and arranged artistically.

I was hoping for the crispy banana pancake I ordered to be the one I used to have at more modest inns around Ubud. Not here. It turned out to be the Balinese authentic pandan-flavored thin crepe filled with banana and garnished with shredded coconut. Nice.

I thought I had plenty of time before leaving for the airport. I was wrong. I barely had time to snatch up a few gifts to bring home at the Ubud Market. But it was alright. Just to be there, in the market, amongst the ladies and a few men who were getting ready to have their merchandise displayed was enough for me. I find that this was the best time to shop in Balinese market, when they just open the shops. They are more willing to sell at a lower price as they believe it would bring good luck for the rest of the day.

Ah .... Ubud !!!!

Notes on Sanur, for Elaine

Dear Elaine,

I guess you may be wondering why I haven’t written to you yet. Well Elaine, I did try write several drafts. My blog contains a very strange looking posting these past three days. I was drafting a letter for you in my blog (and meant to save it as a draft) when I hit the “post” button. So, the draft was there for the world to see.

And it was not a pretty sight. Last weekend – a long one ie. – our big family gathered in Bogor. I asked my bright – blog writer daughter’s opinion on the draft. She said it was boring, dragging at times and dwelling too much on the trivia. So, I scrapped it, and tried to start anew. This is my last attempt..

As I told you, I went to Bali early this month. Elaine, you asked me to write about Sanur as you have not been there. Well, it was my first time too in a fifteen years. So you will read an impression of a novice Sanur visitor.

What I learned from my stay in Sanur was that liking it is an acquired taste. I did not like Sanur the first time I arrived. The hotel I stayed was drab – a character-less three stars generic looking hotel. It was built in early eighties and seemed to be stuck in that decade. The hotel seemed to be screaming “I don’t care, it is only business” from every single seam of it. The employees – although clad in Balinese traditional attire – seemed bored. The service was un-enthusiastic. Even the tourist looked amateur – the ones whose definition of vacationing is to shop. But as I was “adjusting my focus” I spotted a local lady in kebaya who was so absorbed in the preparation of the Sesajen (offerings) that she was oblivious to her surrounding. A pink plastic bag containing the offerings was placed carelessly on a counter. We would not see this kind of sight in bigger hotels where things are orchestrated. I find this seemingly mundane activity – preparation of offerings – quite endearing. Somehow it made the hotel became more personal and less generic.

The same thing applies with the beach too, I observed. The beach itself was dull, brownish beach with brownish blue water, lined up with small stalls selling everything under USD 10, from tea to (fake) tattoo. I was determined to experience Sanur despite the uninteresting first impression. Through enough, within minutes the chemistry of the long long love affair I have with Bali, returned. The people, Elaine, the people !!! What is so outstanding about Sanur is that it is not frivolous, not flirtatious. Kuta, Legian, Ubud, Seminyak, Krobokan, all those places put on their best clothes to welcome visitors, ready to entertain and to prove that this place is worth the money you spent. Not Sanur. Here, even on the beach, people carried on their daily chores as if they were in their own backyard. The ladies were busy weaving young coconut leaves to make offering containers. Under a tree there was a middle aged couple sitting on a bale (pronounced : bah-lair), a large wooden bench that can accommodate four or five adults, cross-legged of course. I was surprised when the wife casually tossed out her blouse over her head, leaving her only with her pants and a camisole –like top (see the picture). On other spheres of this world, women might do that to appear sexy, but here, it was an act as plain as mundane as breastfeeding. And if you could see how the fat were hanging out on various parts of her torso, you’d understand what I mean.


So, to me, lesson number one about Sanur : it is an acquired taste to enjoy it. And second lesson, Sanur does not put itself on display. It is not cheeky, quite natural. The third thing I learned about Sanur is that the food is surprisingly good.

Walking from my hotel to the beach that was only a ten minutes walk, I was rather discouraged by the feeling of loneliness that every single restaurant and café along the street seemed to be showing. So I chose one café by the beach rather carelessly, not expecting anything. The avocado salad I ordered turned up on my table looking very appetizing and REALLY tasted as good as it looked. The ingredients were fresh and the dressing innovative, using ground shallots that gave it a unique taste. I felt that I just needed to check the consistency of the quality. So I ordered Greek salad. And Voila…….. not bad at all !! Hmm…. Impressive. That was good enough a clue for me to order the safest bet, Nasi Goreng Bali. And you know Elaine? Exactly the nasi goreng Bali that I remember from my earlier visits here, that seemed to be disappearing in place of a fancier version of it. This was the wholesome fried rice, ornamented by shredded cabbages and slivers of shredded chicken. A sunny side up sat on top and shrimp crackers on the side. Yummy.

Elaine, I am still trying to figure out, how come those cafes that did not look flourishing and well-frequented (is there such term?) were able to produce fine dishes like these. In the evening, I needed somewhere quite to work while having dinner. So I crossed the street from my hotel and chose a simple eating place. While there were a couple of guests there, I still did not expect the food to be good. But again, the Bebek Betutu I ordered turned out moist, well seasoned, well presented and very very tasty.

My theory is that almost anywhere in Bali, if you are in this food business, you are exposed to a vast range of “tastebuds”, resulting in a more demanding market. If you want to survive, you have to pass a certain level of requirements. At least the ingredients must be fresh. At least the taste should be good. At least the range of menu should be interesting. At least the service should be friendly and excellent. And if you are innovative, you could go even higher up in the competition. You see Elaine, in Jakarta, the cafes capitalize more on the ambiance and the décor that often food is put at the lower end of the priority list.

Lastly, the lesson I learned about Sanur is that some of the crafts they sell here are not sold anywhere else. When I walked along those little shops on the beach I noticed various rings that were made by the owners themselves. There was an old man with a makeshift stall (a little wooden box with roof, painted white. It looked portable and was not attached to other stalls) who sell various shells with holes that were drilled in the middle of each shell. They make interesting rings, one is different than the other, not one is the same.

I also found lovely rings made from used inner bike rubber tire. They are dyed in various colours, shocking pinks, blue, gold, silver and took shape in the form of dahlias (about 10 cm in diameter). The price was unbelievably low, Rp. 15.000 apiece. I regret I only bought two. I could not find them anywhere else. To think that they are made from recycled materials !!!

Another theory. Sanur craftsmen are not as loaded as their counterparts in other parts of Bali. Therefore, in order to survive they need to use cheap and readily available materials in their surrounding and also, they need to be extra creative…..

When I left Sanur the next day after lunch to Ubud, it had started to grow on me !!

So Elaine, my suggestion is that if you visit Sanur, give it a couple of days to prove to you that it deserves your attention and affection.


Btw, I deleted the "accidental" earlier posting about Sanur..........

The Birth of a Blog

What is the first step towards your dream, your goal ? Some will say, visualize the end. Or others would volunteer, think big.

Well, to me it is the Nike way.......Do It !

This blog is the witness of such "wisdom" (I know this is hardly qualify as wisdom). I have been wanting, dreaming, wishing, longing, yearning, to write. There were times in my youth when I envisaged myself on the podium accepting a literature award. I even had the words of acceptance composed in my head. That was a dream, and there is this reality. I have not in my entire 46 years, voluntarily, completed any finished product of writing. I work under external pressure.. so I have written papers, reports, letters, presentations, speeches........but not one complete "freehand" article. I mean, a writing that is done the way a painter paint his painting. Or a piece that is written the way a pianist composes his piece. Not one, ladies and gentlemen.

So, while having a blog is a mundane event for most, to me it is THE MILESTONE.

This day, 20th November 2008, sees the birth of a very potentially potent writer, Yana Arsyadi who will pour her heart out onto this blog , which is not so co-incidentally also born this very day.

Welcome to my blog.