Ubud, Bali, Indonesia

Bali has its cheering fans, some of whom I met in Australia. I heard praise about the the culture, the cheap prices, and the natural beauty. We booked a tour to Ubud, reputedly one of fanciest areas of the island. Hmph. I was underwhelmed. I don’t appreciate what culture and cheap prices Bali offered me and I have higher standards for natural beauty.

Traffic is messy, water is non-potable, litter is ubiquitous, locals are guarded, tourists are rich, sanitation is limited, women are suppressed. This is such a patriarchal culture that Balinese women finally got the right to inherit property from their fathers or husbands in 2010. And I scoff at what once may have been natural beauty and now looks plumb worn out and sold out.

There are sculptures everywhere. Many represent guardian figures to ward off demons. A guardian is called bedogol. The demons must constantly be appeased with little offerings and thwarted with architecture. Demons only travel in a straight line, so Balinese add extra up and down steps through a gate and a half-height perpendicular wall to prevent demonic emanations from entering the housing compound. I understand the little trays of flower petals and rice, but nobody cleans them up when they’ve gone brown because that would offend the Gods of Rot.
There are street dogs who eat scraps and spread rabies. Our guides chaperoned us closely. I think if they lose someone the demons come for them. My guide, I. Vidnanya, told us many factoids: either true (Balinese men sit cross-legged and Balinese women sit kneeling, Bali always have good weather) or not (all land belongs to the village). He was distressed that I wasn’t taking enough photos.  Call me a California rice snob, but when I see workers harvesting rice by hand, I think it’s better done with a handy Kubota or similar. Not, golly, what a great photo op.

I overheard one failed merchant transaction. Aussie, admiring a 12” by 12” floral painting: how much? Balinese Dad: 300 Australian Dollars. Aussie recoils.  Balinese Dad: 200 Dollars! Aussie shakes his head. Balinese Dad: for you, best price 100 dollars! Aussie backs away as if the painting were pursuing him. I learned to say tidak, which means no. 

The demons are sculpted with exaggerated long canine teeth.

That’d be okay with me except the Balinese have a coming-of-age ceremony in which the teen’s canine teeth are filed down by a priest. It has something in common with our culture’s coming of age ceremony: both require facing down distant relatives who want to hug you. The belief is that the pointed canines invite evil thoughts and bad deeds. Also, it is considered more beautiful to have round even teeth. I think in the creative, spiritual world they may pray as they please, but subtracting perfectly good tooth enamel to fight evil spirits just invites dental problems. With age we all lose tooth enamel, which protects the teeth. I’ll work on being a better person who has sharp teeth. Not coincidentally, Balinese food seems soft and easy to chew: Nasi Goreng, green papaya salad.

Until I came to Bali, I thought my brothers made up the word “bunga ,” which describes the hyper running around state of a happy dog. Turns out “bunga” means “flower” in Indonesian, so “bunga bunga” is the plural. 

Our minivan had a guide and a driver. Our guide shepherded six of us: one couple each from the USA, UK, and Australia. The ones from left-handed roads applauded the driver a few times for skillful maneuvers to weave among motorbikes. I saw no stop signs and no working traffic signals. To stop traffic, someone steps out in the street waving a red flag. Although Bali claims not to have a caste system, though they imported other parts of Hinduism, the streets reveal a Balinese caste system. The wealthy, often Bule (foreigner), drive and are driven. The rest hop on motorbikes. Bule speak English, not Indonesian. Bule are the rich upper class.

The combination of ice cream and shisha (flavored tobacco) caught my eye.