I had a very interesting encounter with a young man from Java the other day. I had been walking for hours taking photos of the people and things of Ubud on my way to the rice fields on the outskirts of town.
First off, I should explain that I get nowhere when I have a camera in my hand because I take a photo of everything, which leads me to moving along at a snails pace. So when I say it took me hours to get to the outskirts of Ubud, it may have taken a normal person only 20-30 minutes walking. Ubud is a very small town.
Now, back to the story… I was walking, looking diligently for the rice fields when I peaked my lens through a grassy brush-type wall to snap a photo of what I thought were the start of the rice fields. As I was doing this, I heard two people yelling at me in broken English. At first, I thought I was getting scolded for my paparazzi like behavior but would later realize they were just trying to help.
As I soon found out, Takrip (short for Muhammad with two other very long names) was just trying to help me out. Unfortunately he didn’t speak very good English and I don’t speak very good Bahasa Indonesia, so we went back and forth awhile until he finally came across the street to show me what he had been trying to explain.
Takrip took me through the grassy brush-type wall and it was like entering a different world. A few seconds ago, I had been on paved streets with motorbikes zipping by and now I was looking at homemade shacks of mud and sticks and roosters and chickens running about. It was topped off by the fact that surrounding theses old, rundown shacks, were the most amazing green fields of rice paddies. It was a magnificent scene.
I thanked Takrip profusely for showing me this and he countered by motioning me to follow him further. I obliged, and off we were to walk along the terraces of the rice fields. Takrip could move very quickly, maneuvering about, but I was not so sure footed. We ventured down to a clearing over a large gorge where we stopped to admire its beauty. I snapped a photo of Takrip there and he returned the favor. It was a great moment and for the first time I really felt like I was traveling.
On our way back up to the road, Takrip stopped to pick a gigantic fruit for us to eat. We brought it over to his art studio across the street and both enjoyed the freshly picked fruit. It had a bitter taste to it, but in a pleasing way. He saw that I was enjoying the fruit so he cut the rest up and put it in a bag and gave to me as a gift. Once again, I thanked him for his generosity.
As I was about to go on my way, he decided there was more he would like to show me. This time we went in the opposite direction, behind his art studio, towards the rice fields again.
So there we were, Takrip and I, off on another adventure. It was pretty exciting. He took me all around, stopping to let me snap a few quick photos of the workers and their fields. We did this for hours, finally ending back at his place.
Takrip proceeded to invite me into his studio and show me his work. His paintings were stunning, mostly nudes… very sensual. He explained to me that he had moved to Bali from the island of Java seven years ago to pursue his art career.
We sat talking in his studio for the next hour while sipping hot coffee. He told me about his life and how excited he was to get back to Java to see his family this October. Being a practicing Muslim, Takrip was going home for Ramadan, an annual Muslim event where everyone abstains from eating, drinking, smoking or having sex from sunrise to sunset.
I showed him photos of my family and where I grew up. He was very interested but had a curious look about his face while looking at the photos of my home. He could not believe they were photographs, he kept saying they looked like miniature paintings.
We ended our day by exchanging email addresses and I was off on my long trek home.
