Grounded in Kuta

Here’s how my day started and I can tell you that it is not a peachy way to start the day.

I had signed up for a full day para-gliding course and was skipping with excitement, all set for the hills of Timbis. Then, the phone rang.

“Miss Lim, this is Bernard from Exofly. We cancel all flights today. The wind is too strong.”

“Too strong?”

“Yes, we fly giant kites today. Maybe tomorrow. Report say weather tomorrow is better.”

“But, tomorrow I am going to Kintamani.”

“You can call us to check weather.”

“Call you when?”

“Every day.”

“Every day?”

“Ya, every day.”

“Errr… Ok.”

My heart sunk! I was devastated. Suddenly I was grounded, miserable and disoriented.

I glared disappointingly at a stack of tour brochures but it was too late to try to plan anything elaborate. So I decided to spend the day wandering Kuta on foot, to find out what the raves and rage about Kuta was all about.  

Most travel writers have made a “love to hate and hate to love” observation about Kuta.  Many people whom I spoke to prior to my trip have also come to the same conclusion – Kuta is just a mass of tourist and everything touristy. Not worth the time.

I didn’t saunter too far today but I can confirm that Kuta IS just a mass of tourist and everything touristy. But wait a minute, what did you guys expect?

Kuta has evolved to cater for you and I – the tourists. By day, I saw Starbucks, McDonalds, Coffee Bean, Ripcurl, Billabong, Hurley, Ralph Lauren, Crocs, Adidas, Quicksilver and the list of brand-names go on. In all of these shops, there were only foreigners, no locals.

Then, there were also “brandless” traders, selling “I Love Bali” t-shirts and assortment of souveniers. This is not unlike any other tourist destination. Kuta or Phuket, they are all “same-same-but-different”.

Adidas, Hurley and other braded shops scattered all over Kuta.

Tourists shop here, not so much the locals.

This could very well be taken in Phuket.

They even cater for individuals like Mae, and she has stayed in Kuta once!

The beach is littered and the sand, jaundiced. All along the seaside, someone is thriving on the boom of tourism. Buy some time on a jet-ski, rent a beach ball, pay for surf lessons or hire a plastic chair for the 6.00pm sunset. The same can be said of Batu Ferringhi.

Want to sit? Rent a chair!

By night, fancy al-fresco cafes and clubs spring to life. Alcohol, drugs, women and just about any other debauchery are aplenty to create the party scene that you and I look for on a holiday. Sounds like Bangkok to me.

Kuta is not a place to come in search for peace and quiet, and it really should not be blamed for not resonating serenity or originality. Let’s not hate Kuta for what it is not. It deserves to be loved for what it is. After all, Kuta has become everything you and I nurtured it to be.

(Turns out, spending the day discovering Kuta wasn't so bad after all. Now, I just need to figure out what Bernard meant by calling him every day.)

Pork Ribs from Heaven!

Now, I would not be my husband’s wife if I did not post one decent blog about the delicious Indonesian fare. In keeping it within the family, I must mention that this was my sister-in-law’s sole advice to me before I left  - Go makan at Naughty Nuri’s Warong!

Obedient as I am, I went, and oh my-my-my! Can I just say that this is one place that is NOT overrated! The pork ribs are to-die-for! It was tender, juicy, moist and wonderfully tasty!

I cannot remember how I got there so wherever Naughty Nuri is located at Ubud, it is a quaint and unassuming wooden shack with a shop full, full of patrons both local and foreign.

If you are ever in Ubud, you must make a pit stop at Naughty Nuri’s Warong. You do not know what you are missing until you do!

Naughty Nuri's Warung, Ubud, Bali.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of this.

Taking the time to take this photo was tormentting. I could not wait to dive in!

The Beautiful People of Bali

They come in all forms. Most are Hindus, some are Buddhist and handfuls are Muslims. Some are young, some are old. They can be men or women, rich or poor. Some are dark, some are fairer. They can be petite or large, tall or short. They share with each other, they share with you.  All across the island they are hospitable, warm and kind.

They could not care for your race or religion or if you are spotting your latest pair of Nikes. It does not bother them if you are the next Justin Bieber or if you ARE Justin Bieber. Somehow when you are amongst them, you know that you will not be critiqued or judged. You are simply accepted the way you are.

Everything you have heard or read about the beautiful people of Bali is true.

Random people I met today from Ubud and Mas

Sometimes we are exiles by our own doings and in our own minds with preconceptions about who and what we are supposed to be.

Ubud Dreaming

The narrow roads began to wind and wrap the village as we approached the little town in the foothills of Bali. There is no mistaking that the presence of Balinese soul is more evident here in Ubud. It is full to the brim with art and artisans of all sorts, it is no wonder that Ubud is referred to as the heart of art and the island’s cultural centre.

I had spent the morning journeying from Kuta to the tiny settlement in Batubulan, where I met some painters.

According to the painter, it took him some three months to do this.

Throughout the journey, I marveled at the detailed and wonderful architecture made out form carved stone at each wall and building structure. The details were absolutely breathtaking and startling at the same time with enraged faces of mystical creatures and local gods. Most of the structures were grey and faded and covered with a layer of thick, overgrown moss, radiating a sacred but very eerie energy.

In Mas, I met Pak Madi and his family of woodcarvers. He is the third generation of woodcarvers in his family and has since handed over the family business to his son. I bought a gorgeous monkey statue for Charles’ garden.



Here is Pak Madi with a statue of Ganesan craved from Sandalwood

One thing I have come to realised is whether I am in Beijing or Hanoi; or Gold Coast or Cape Town, nothing expresses the vibrant character of the village, city or town better than its local market places. In all of these places the bazaars would come alive in a kaleidoscope of colours and trumpeting calls from stall vendors to “Come, look!”

Most of the time, the stalls sell nothing more exotic than cheap albeit charming little trinkets and odd ornaments.

Kadek, a little doe-eyed local girl, no more than 8 years old, gestured me from afar, waving a patch-blanket. (My great grandmother used to sew us these, made to order, according to height and size.)

Kadek started unfolding several other pieces with different designs and invited me to “see, touch!” Her father was willing to sell me one for 350rp. I offered 100rp. “Sis, I tell you,” she negotiated as she stuffed the blanket into my hands, “how about we give you for 100rp, and you give me another 50rp for good luck?”

I bought it. For good luck.

It was my pleasure to meet this smart little Balinese girl, Kadek.

The entire setting of Ubud tunes the state of mind for a true Balinese experience, in spite of the invasion of tourism and all its bane. Ubud has somehow managed a harmonious mish mash of old and new, traditional and trendy, classic and contemporary. I guess that is what art is all about.

By and large, Ubud is a really special place, but I think what makes it most special, apart from all the remarkable art, glorious food and friendly people, is the sanctuary of everyday life that is simple and un-daunting, even for the occasional visitor.