Ubud

From South Bali, we headed to Ubud, a sprawling town (which runs into adjoining towns, so that I have no idea how anyone decides where Ubud ends and other places begin) that every piece of tourism print I saw called "the cultural heart of Bali." Here, there are nightly Balinese dance performances, yoga studios on every block, shop after shop of beautiful fabric and clothing and crafts, vegan cafes, WAY more free wifi than we've found so far in all of Australia combined, and anything else all of the MANY foreign residents and visitors might desire. Toss in gutters full of trash, horribly maintained sidewalks, a beautiful Hindu temple (or five) on every street, and six knock-off Polo stores to remind you you're in Bali, and it's a very successful recipe for Eat Pray Love romanticism (it's here the third part of Elizabeth Gilbert's book is set). Even when it was verging on in-your-face travel-chic, somehow I found it all charming and really like it here.

 

 

 

I love how all the little snack shops sell petrol for the motor-scooters in repurposed gas bottles, and especially love it when those are Absolut bottles. It's almost modern art. (And really, to a non-drinker like me, vodka tastes like it might as well be gasoline, so it's completely appropriate.)

 

One of the standard Ubud stops is the Monkey Forest, where a patch of jungle in the city shelters some spectacular stone carvings (animals, temples, you name it). Yes, and lots of monkeys. At least these ones weren't crafty thieves like those at Ulu Watu.

 

And, completely coincidentally, we managed to be in Bali, and in Ubud no less, for Galungan Day, an important Balinese holiday marking the beginning of a ten-day celebration of the return of the gods to the island. It was fun (but oppressively hot and sweaty, if you want to know the truth) wandering around town watching the locals in their finest...

 

...seeing the offerings that are already left in front of practically every human structure every day ramped up to a fever pitch...

...seeing people make and then struggle to erect the penjors (huge bamboo poles, colorfully decorated and placed to the right of the entrance of every home)...

...watching the temples go from ornate to positively festooned...

...and, toward sundown, hearing the music of groups of celebrants moving through the streets with ceremonial animal costumes and what look to me like a type of parasol that I'm now coveting.

 

Things just get better and better, I tell you!