I’ve done a lot of weekend travel through much of Europe. The crazy 3 day Friday evening to Monday morning stints from London to Lisbon, to Dubrovnik, to Paris, to Barcelona, to Athens. They’ve been fantastic and remarkable and beautiful. But more and more over the last year, the desire to see as many places as possible has been replaced by the desire to KNOW a few places really well. Over time, I’v realized that cities on the outside are superficially very much the same. There will be street side cafés with English, German and French language menus, there will be pashminas in every store (and after a few years of seeing souvenirs around the world, I could swear there is a pashmina factory in China exporting to every major tourist spot on the planet), there will be brand name international hotels and there will be gelato shops at every corner. These combined with the exoticism of a different language and the atmosphere of a new place will make for a pretty great three-day binge trip through any major city. But to really get to know a place, to learn about its people, to connect with the soul of a city or land, you have to work through the layers of commerce and Westernism and fabrication that comfortably greets you at the airport, on the high street, in your hotel. You have to take the side streets, get lost, get dirty and risk stepping out of your comfort zone to discover the true heart of your destination.
This has been the thing that has kept me in Ubud. I came here on a one-way open ticket from Singapore, without an itinerary or address. I wanted to wing it. And though this may not seem like the smartest of plans even for the most experienced traveler, I wanted the place to unfold in front of me as opposed to forcing it open on my own accord. And unfold it has. I’ve been here 6 days now and each morning, my heart sings just a little more for this place. I am greeted by the rain or the sunshine. I eat spicy noodles and fruit for breakfast. And then I have the whole day’s worth of hours to explore, to ponder, to learn or to relax. And like most things valuable and beautiful and worthwhile, the best experiences have come from unexpected blessings that have come along the away. I’ve met some remarkable people from different parts of the world and unlike at home in the crazy rat race of work and traffic and bills, we’ve had the luxury of time to sit in a café for 5 hours and share stories of India and Africa and Vietnam, to talk philosophy and religion and music and the arts. When you start to feel like you are a part of a place, you begin to open yourself truly to the people of a place. They aren’t just your hotel bellhop or driver or storekeeper. They become your guide, your friend, another human being with experiences of love and loss and searching just like you and instead of just connecting about Ubud and its temples, you start to learn about their families, their children, their hopes and dreams. Suddenly you are no longer a tourist nor they the host – you become one in the same. And when that happens, you truly begin to see the heart of a place.
Today, on our drive through the mountains and jungles and rice paddies of Eastern Bali, I learned about my driver Sentanu’s wife and children, how his grandfather was reincarnated as his second son, how after a decade of international travel and work he decided to come back to Ubud to find peace in his life. In the countryside we got caught behind a funeral procession, a whole village of men holding hands, walking with the grieving family to the village cemetery. We visited salt-making villages and hidden lagoons and snake-skin fruit plantations. We passed 4 men carrying a dead pig ready for slaughter. We got caught behind the ringing of a school bell as hundreds of kids streamed onto the road, ready to go home for the day. And for lunch we feasted on nasi champur in a beach cove in Candi Dasa at a local restaurant on the Eastern coast. None of this would have been accessible to me had I joined a tour group or followed the guidebook or not connected with a local.
What an amazing day. It rains here just as surely as the sun rises. I love that I’ve been here relatively long enough and unbusy enough to know when and how hard this rain will be. I love that I have a favourite café here that I go to for tea and dinner and drinks with friends. I love that I know the hotelier’s first name, and his cousin’s name and his father’s name. And I love that they know where to pick me up at the end of the evening so I don’t walk home in the dark. I just, just, just love it all – my days, my evenings and the wonderful peace that comes over me when all I can do in a day is wander the hot humid streets of Ubud Bali. =)
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Ha.
