Ubud... With More To Come

The Rice Fields Were Calling

I had decided last night before going to bed that I was feeling better and it was time to take my trip to the much anticipated Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary that I had seen on my arrival date.

I woke up nice and early the next morning with a smile on my face. I had a plan. During breakfast, I noticed off in the distance a marvelous scene of lush green fields. I don’t know how it had slipped past me for this long. I had been eating in the same location for the past couple of days. It may have been attributed to my illness or the inability we all have, at times, to look at something but not really see it. Well today I saw it.

I asked the lady serving me my morning banana jaffle about this magnificent place I could see and she gave me a rough outline of the path I needed to take. I was excited, really excited… I had a new plan. The Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary would have to wait for another day. The fields were calling my name and I was listening.

I packed up my gear, grabbed a large bottle of water and headed down the path to see what I could find. I felt like a kid on Christmas, minus the pj’s and presents, but I was excited and had no clue what goodies were in store for me.

As I started down the path, I immediately saw the lush green fields of rice that I had seen earlier during breakfast. It was a spectacular scene. Wide-open country full of terraced fields as far as the eye could see. I marveled at their primitive, yet ingenious irrigation system.

Their irrigation system was based on the simple principle of water being taken from its main source (the river) and directed to different areas by a system of trenches that were on the outskirts of each field. The fields were terraced so the water would gradually step-down to another level until it had reach all fields from top to bottom. It was essentially a giant set of steps with water flowing down them being helped along by gravity. Pretty clever.

I began taking photos of everything. Everywhere I looked, I saw beauty. To the workers in the fields, I must have seemed crazy because they see this gorgeous scene everyday. To me, it was fresh and exactly what I had come looking for. I had hit the jackpot this time. It was just nature, its unlimited beauty and I. It was setting up to be a perfect day.

As I continued on my walk, I encountered many workers, both male and female, that would stop and say hello to me. They were very kind and would ask if I would like a coconut that they were carrying. (They carry everything on their heads) I would politely explain to them that I had a long journey so I would have to pass but asked if I could take their photograph. Most were more than willing, almost proud to be asked, like they were a celebrity. I thanked them with a smile and moved on further down the path.

It was a little intimidating at times, for the workers carried either a hatchet or a grim reaper like blade with them. At any moment, they could of held me up or cut me into pieces. Though I never felt threatened, I always kept my wits about me and made smart decisions when dealing with them. Like I said earlier, they were more than willing to share a smile and give me directions if need be. They were very hardworking individuals with a good sense of balance in their lives. They seemed happy with what they were doing and I didn’t seem to bother or disturb their way of life.

Halfway through the journey, I had a decision to make because I had come to a fork in the road. Five minutes into my decision I knew I had made the wrong one when a local from across the river was yelling and motioning for me to turn around and go back to where the road split. I did just that and was met by a young gentleman named Gooste. He explained to me the errors of my way and I obliged to follow him on the right path.

Gooste carried me across the river and showed me where he lived. He told me he was a local farmer who also painted as a sideline business. He sold his prints out of his home to people that were walking along the same path that I was now on. We talked for a while and I gave him a small amount of money to buy some cigarettes that he needed.

This is something you run into a lot, people asking for money. It is a tricky thing because you can’t possibly give money to everyone that asks. I felt Gooste had helped me so I repaid him by giving him some money for his efforts. I usually don’t cave like this, but he seemed genuinely nice and sincere.

A while later, I came upon an organic farm that served fresh fruit. It was a nice little place set atop a wooden structure that allowed you to see the fields in a 360-degree fashion. I ordered a fruit salad along with a banana smoothie and sat back and enjoyed the view. My pit stop came at the perfect time. Five minutes into my stay, the skies opened up and it rained for a half an hour.

I talked to some locals at the organic farm and they informed me that Ubud was only a 10-minute walk from their farm. I waited out the rain, enjoyed my fruit salad and off I went to finish my trek that I had started some hours before.

I came to the town of Ubud a short time later, got my bearings of where I was and headed in the direction of home. I took photos of people on the street the whole way back, a stark contrast to the fields of green I had taken earlier. It had been a really great day. I finished my spontaneous day off with a refreshing dip in the pool.

My Javanese Friend

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.