As I sit here in one of Ubud's many cafes with my laptop, I'm struck by the strangeness of having to write a summary of a place that has been my home for the last month. As I look up from my screen, my eyes are met by tourists peering through shop windows, locals riding two or three to a motorbike, poor children begging for money, touts yelling across the street at passersby, and even a mouse running up the side of a building, carelessly knocking offerings to the ground. All of this has become commonplace. It's weird to think that in just a few hours I'll have a new culture and a new landscape that will be "home".
The concept of "home" has occupied my thoughts lately. For most people I know, it's a simple, straightforward concept. In my case however, I have three homes. Hockessin, DE is home because that's where I grew up and where most of my immediate family still lives. San Francisco is home because that's where I've lived the most as an adult and where I'll be returning when I'm done traveling. But in the most immediate and daily sense, wherever I lay my head is home. For the last month, my home has been a breezy and sunny third-floor bungalow in beautiful Ubud. Even though I've become very comfortable with being nomadic, I'm occasionally struck by the oddity of having three homes, yet not really having a home at all. Filling out my current address on websites has become a lot trickier than it used to be.
My opinion of my current home away from home away from home hasn't really changed much since my first post. Ubud, and really Bali in general, is a complex dichotomy of tradition and modernism, of wealthy tourists and poor locals, of preserving culture and welcoming foreign influences (and money).
Tapping into tourism money leads to a lot of hovering and hawking; the Balinese haven't quite mastered the soft touch of salesmanship. I'm watched like a hawk if I peruse the wares of any shop and some restaurant employees will practically accost me (albeit in a very amicable way) if I stop to look at the menu outside. Walking the major streets of Ubud is tacitly inviting a barrage of offers for trinkets, sunglasses, carvings, massages, food, drinks, and taxis. The taxi touts are the most annoying as they verbally assault tourists with one-word sentences from across the street. Hello? Taxi? Yes? Transport? Yes? Cheap! Cheap! After about a week here, I had to adopt my San Francisco style of never leaving the house without sunglasses and earbuds.
I'd like to think that the Balinese are just hospitable to a fault and I realize that they're all just trying to make ends meet. I still think a more passive approach would yield better results (and I've had this exact conversation with other travelers), but I try to be mindful that the locals' livelihood is at stake. Their communities and economy are now very much dependent on tourism, so they have to hustle every day.
Once I learned to filter out the touts and the obviously non-Balinese stores and the big buses of daytripping Japanese tourists and the stupid wooden penis keychains for sale at trashy souvenir shops, I started to discover a place that appeals to all the senses. The landscape is painted every shade of green imaginable and the roads are lined with temples and beautiful architecture. The food is cheap and incredible and caters to everyone (more on that here). At night, there is a symphony of crickets and frogs and birds and music (both traditional and modern) that wafts in through my open windows; in the morning, the tune changes to roosters and children playing and locals working. And all the while, the fragrant aroma of incense seems to be everywhere. Some of my fondest memories here will be the times I sat on my patio, just watching the clouds or the setting sun or the stars or the moon as a stick of incense burned on the table next to me. Those times were some of the most peaceful and pleasant I've ever experienced.
In the interest of assisting my own fallible memory and providing some transparency to my devoted readers, here's a (mostly complete) list of what I've done here:
A funny side-effect of the routine is that I'd go through various news feeds on my tablet in the morning as I ate breakfast, leading to me being much more well-informed about U.S. and world events than I ever was before. However, I don't know why I bother, as the vast majority of news stories (especially from the U.S.) are frustrating, depressing, or infuriating. I've changed my habits to read either GOOD or Gawker instead. I'd rather be inspired or entertained, thank you very much.
Part of me still feels a bit of FOMO that I didn't explore the rest of the island or the neighboring islands, but I'm quite happy with how the past month has gone. And I have the pictures to prove it! My general philosophy with this type of traveling is to spend more time in less places; call it the Jerry Maguire mentality of backpacking. My interactions with locals have included some really meaningful conversations about culture and society and politics. Multiple times, I've had the subtle joy of seeing sincere flattery and a smile come across the face of a local when I casually drop in conversation some lesser-known fact about Balinese culture. Going on multiple tours of the countryside and privately owned rice fields and traditional Balinese homes was also really memorable, both for the photo opportunities and for the chance to connect with people, especially when it was just one-on-one.
There were a lot of "pinch me" moments when I'd suddenly remember where I was. It became so easy to forget that fact when I had a daily routine for a couple weeks. I'd be walking home from the gym, listening to music, enjoying the perfect weather and the scenery and the incense and the buildings and the people, and it would hit me: yes, I was just walking home from the gym, but I was walking home from the gym in Bali. It's funny to contrast my current feelings of comfort and routine with my feelings of wonder when I first arrived.
I'm sad to be leaving but it's definitely time to move on. Next transient home: Malaysia! When I was researching this trip a few months ago, I hadn't really considered Malaysia, but once again, Lonely Planet has succeeded in overwhelming me with a million things to do, so I'm currently pruning my list of choices and working on an itinerary through the country. The first stop will be Kuala Lumpur for a few days and everything after that is still up in the air, though I'm aiming for some time in Taman Negara National Park, the Cameron Highlands, Ipoh, Penang, and Langkawi.
As my time is running out and I still need to pack before my flight, I'll close with this photo, which is most definitely overly romanticized, but, in a way, captures how I've come to view this place through my rose-colored glasses.
Full photo albums:
The concept of "home" has occupied my thoughts lately. For most people I know, it's a simple, straightforward concept. In my case however, I have three homes. Hockessin, DE is home because that's where I grew up and where most of my immediate family still lives. San Francisco is home because that's where I've lived the most as an adult and where I'll be returning when I'm done traveling. But in the most immediate and daily sense, wherever I lay my head is home. For the last month, my home has been a breezy and sunny third-floor bungalow in beautiful Ubud. Even though I've become very comfortable with being nomadic, I'm occasionally struck by the oddity of having three homes, yet not really having a home at all. Filling out my current address on websites has become a lot trickier than it used to be.
My opinion of my current home away from home away from home hasn't really changed much since my first post. Ubud, and really Bali in general, is a complex dichotomy of tradition and modernism, of wealthy tourists and poor locals, of preserving culture and welcoming foreign influences (and money).
Tapping into tourism money leads to a lot of hovering and hawking; the Balinese haven't quite mastered the soft touch of salesmanship. I'm watched like a hawk if I peruse the wares of any shop and some restaurant employees will practically accost me (albeit in a very amicable way) if I stop to look at the menu outside. Walking the major streets of Ubud is tacitly inviting a barrage of offers for trinkets, sunglasses, carvings, massages, food, drinks, and taxis. The taxi touts are the most annoying as they verbally assault tourists with one-word sentences from across the street. Hello? Taxi? Yes? Transport? Yes? Cheap! Cheap! After about a week here, I had to adopt my San Francisco style of never leaving the house without sunglasses and earbuds.
I'd like to think that the Balinese are just hospitable to a fault and I realize that they're all just trying to make ends meet. I still think a more passive approach would yield better results (and I've had this exact conversation with other travelers), but I try to be mindful that the locals' livelihood is at stake. Their communities and economy are now very much dependent on tourism, so they have to hustle every day.
Once I learned to filter out the touts and the obviously non-Balinese stores and the big buses of daytripping Japanese tourists and the stupid wooden penis keychains for sale at trashy souvenir shops, I started to discover a place that appeals to all the senses. The landscape is painted every shade of green imaginable and the roads are lined with temples and beautiful architecture. The food is cheap and incredible and caters to everyone (more on that here). At night, there is a symphony of crickets and frogs and birds and music (both traditional and modern) that wafts in through my open windows; in the morning, the tune changes to roosters and children playing and locals working. And all the while, the fragrant aroma of incense seems to be everywhere. Some of my fondest memories here will be the times I sat on my patio, just watching the clouds or the setting sun or the stars or the moon as a stick of incense burned on the table next to me. Those times were some of the most peaceful and pleasant I've ever experienced.
In the interest of assisting my own fallible memory and providing some transparency to my devoted readers, here's a (mostly complete) list of what I've done here:
- Several museums and many art galleries
- Visited villages and shops outside of Ubud
- Several self-guided photo walks
- Read a lot on my patio
- Wrote a lot (mostly about food)
- Lots to Balinese massages ($8 an hour!)
- Sacred Monkey Forest
- Volunteered part-time for two weeks at BARC (the only operating dog shelter in Ubud)
- Made extensive use of a gym membership
- Nursed my leg back to reasonable health
- Skyped with friends and family
- Witnessed a once-every-three-years cremation ceremony
- Hiked the two Lonely Planet treks
- Gunung Kawi
- Cycling tour through the countryside
- Took thousands of photos (and kept several hundred)
- Started learning HDR photography
- Explored the shit out of this town on foot
A funny side-effect of the routine is that I'd go through various news feeds on my tablet in the morning as I ate breakfast, leading to me being much more well-informed about U.S. and world events than I ever was before. However, I don't know why I bother, as the vast majority of news stories (especially from the U.S.) are frustrating, depressing, or infuriating. I've changed my habits to read either GOOD or Gawker instead. I'd rather be inspired or entertained, thank you very much.
Part of me still feels a bit of FOMO that I didn't explore the rest of the island or the neighboring islands, but I'm quite happy with how the past month has gone. And I have the pictures to prove it! My general philosophy with this type of traveling is to spend more time in less places; call it the Jerry Maguire mentality of backpacking. My interactions with locals have included some really meaningful conversations about culture and society and politics. Multiple times, I've had the subtle joy of seeing sincere flattery and a smile come across the face of a local when I casually drop in conversation some lesser-known fact about Balinese culture. Going on multiple tours of the countryside and privately owned rice fields and traditional Balinese homes was also really memorable, both for the photo opportunities and for the chance to connect with people, especially when it was just one-on-one.
There were a lot of "pinch me" moments when I'd suddenly remember where I was. It became so easy to forget that fact when I had a daily routine for a couple weeks. I'd be walking home from the gym, listening to music, enjoying the perfect weather and the scenery and the incense and the buildings and the people, and it would hit me: yes, I was just walking home from the gym, but I was walking home from the gym in Bali. It's funny to contrast my current feelings of comfort and routine with my feelings of wonder when I first arrived.
I'm sad to be leaving but it's definitely time to move on. Next transient home: Malaysia! When I was researching this trip a few months ago, I hadn't really considered Malaysia, but once again, Lonely Planet has succeeded in overwhelming me with a million things to do, so I'm currently pruning my list of choices and working on an itinerary through the country. The first stop will be Kuala Lumpur for a few days and everything after that is still up in the air, though I'm aiming for some time in Taman Negara National Park, the Cameron Highlands, Ipoh, Penang, and Langkawi.
As my time is running out and I still need to pack before my flight, I'll close with this photo, which is most definitely overly romanticized, but, in a way, captures how I've come to view this place through my rose-colored glasses.
Full photo albums:
