Gili Air to Ubud, Bali: Cacophony and Polyphony

Ridges of rice patty etched inside a lush dense forest. volcanic folds of green mountain Majestic and gentle stretch out toward the distant sea.

Red roof white houses in a few small mountain villages tucked in, dot the landscape. We are in Munduk, Bali now, seemingly far from the hypnotic pulse of Kecak chants and gamelan polyphony, dense motor scooter filled roads, cacophony of barter in mazes of colorful market stalls. 

Beautiful Bali now for almost two weeks and this somehow feels like the first true moment of pause in which I can give some focused attention to sharing some of our experiences with you. 

When traveling to new places, days can seem like weeks and weeks like a lifetime. Elisa says that each experience in a day is one frame. So we will click back several frames of several days to our surreal departure from Gili Air.

After a meditative yoga with bamboo sticks class and seeing our first Komodo dragons (pets of an islander), we headed for the boat and, our first travel setback as it was 30 minutes late. Elisa wanted to find travel bracelets so we went back into town and met with our first experience with money trickery - Bali deals in thousands, hundred thousands and millions. (13,200 to the U.S. Dollar) so it's easy to get lost in the zeros. Fortunately we were well versed by this time. In truth it's all relative. A meal for 3 can cost $5 U.S. In a simple Warung (Cafeteria) so it's no place to stress. It's a bargaining system and while you want to get a fair deal it feels funny to bargain with people who have so much less than we do. Interactions and exchanges have always been important to me and on this trip I've wanted to make sure that the exchange created good karma for all. A forgiving heart can sometimes open the door. For the most part, the Balinese make it easy as almost everyone is quite generous of spirit with a beaming smile and open curiousity which has made for many a great conversation. The same goes I should say for our wonderful fellow travelers from Italy, France New Zealand, Austraila, Malaysia and beyond, with whom we shared bintang beers, meals, stories and travel advice. One night we ate and drank by bonfire with an eclectic and lively group (American, English, Swedish and Norweigan) who had met up while traveling and climbed Mt. Rinjani (two day trek) just days before. We considered it but would not have enough time this go around. We were later joined by a most happy Malaysian couple whom we'd met briefly on our snorkeling your earlier that day.  We would later run into Irving and Liz from the Boston area whom we'd met on the boat, fellow musicians who were in Bali for the international body music festival in Ubud, which I had intended to join for a workshop but was too caught up in all things Balinese. Good folks, good times.

Back to the boat. When you get on, you put your shoes in the bin marked for your destination. Remember this detail for later. Having sat inside on the way out, Elisa and sat outside on the back of the boat. Breezy and wet. We were joined by Captain Preston Steele of Vancouver, a former underwater filmmaker who had traveled SE many times. It was helpful that he knew so much about the sea because we headed into extremely choppy waters. The ride made my worst airplane turbulence experience seem like a merry-go-round in a kiddie park. The swells were so big I almost bit my tounge. It helped that Captain Steele was smiling and laughing the whole way. Soon, we were too! Once we got to shore we were ready to get to Ubud as soon as possible. We grabbed our bags and Elisa went to get our shoes. Not there. We waited barefoot on the beach for a while until we were informed that our shoes had been left on the last island stop and would come on the next boat 30 minutes later. Our New Zealand boat mates said that we were taking it all in stride (hard not to when you are chilling on a beautiful tropical beach). They said you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle lost luggage, untangle Christmas lights or, you guessed it, traveling. It was at this point, in our first set back that Elisa and I smiled to acknowledge that we had been traveling quite well together. Later came the shoes and off to Ubud.

Ubud is a vibrant city of the senses. Fragrant ceremonial offering incense mixed with restaurant and food stall lemongrass, kafir lime. Floral body lotions and essential oils. Bright and muted batik cloth and clothing, alley way streets packed with warungs (cafeterias) and hip trendy restaurants. If you go to Ubud you will feel like a kid in the candy store of life. The area is much larger and more international than I expected. We ate prayed and loved Ubud but not without reservations. The constant clamor of the taxi touts and crowded streets can wear down the most optimistic of travelers. Beautiful and bustling, shades of eco chic commercialization both add and subtract from the experience at once.  It's as if every major European city, New York, SF and LA's hipster yogini's all descended enmass to renvision and reinterpret classic Hinduism meets animism for their own quasi spiritual experience. That said, we kind of fit the bill and had a blast in Ubud. Ironically we did not take one yoga class because we were so busy doing so many other things! 

 A cooking class at Cafe Wayan gave us insight into the intricate blend of spices and ingredients that go into some of our favorite dishes: Mie Goreng (wok fried noodles), tuna curry and rangdang (think Asian  brisket). Bokso is the dumpling street soup of the people and it is delicious.

We took in mezmerizing gamelan with Legong and barong dances at the Ubud palace, Kelod community hall and elsewhere. We witnessed a full moon Kecak (polyrhythmic chanting) performance involving 50 men and boys who kicked balls of fire at the Arma, a quirky modern art meets classical museum. There we also met an artist and expat who looked like he had stepped out of a psychedelic tropical wizard machine and had not quite landed from his last acid trip in 1978. He fashioned himself the last of the great Jewish artists in a line direct from Walter Spies who helped to popularize the area. His lobby art was, well, out there. 

We were joined at the Kecak by several Australians with serious cameras who couldn't go more than 5 seconds without snapping a photo, flash on.  I know because I counted, like one would in between lightening flashes to determine how close or far the storm was. In this case, the storm was directly in front of us. I was surprised and found it incredibly disrespectful. Would they do this at a performance in their own country? Did they perceive the experience as some demonstration of "savage" ritual? Come on folks. You are not on a cruise boat to Cancun here. One of these folks got their due come uppance as, at one point, as one of the performers came into the audience, snatched the camera and traded places with the guy, popping off flash photos in his face. That, and the balls of fire flew off the stage and came quite close. Yet the performers took it in stride and with good humor. All told, I found Kecak to be quite mezmerizing and, when not counting flashes, got happily lost in the cacophony of voices. 

That day we also met some cool Italians who were traveling Indonesia for two months and volunteering. A light bulb sparked in Elisa's imagination (I think it's actually been there for some time) and we've been talking about the idea ever since. 

While in Ubud, we stayed at Narasoma Homestay based on our friend Eugene's recommendation and it was easily our favorite accommodation on Bali. Homestay by the way more often than not means hotel run by a family. Down a little alley side street off of the futbol square, Narasoma's courtyard is resplendent with intricate wood and stone Balinese carving and sculpture which continue into its lush tropical gardens and infinity pool.  I should note that most every home in Bali (Balinese live for the most part in extended family compounds) has some ornate decor at its gate and within it's home temple. That's right. almost everyone family has their very own temple. More on that later. 

Narasoma is at once classical and beautiful, whimsical and quirky. The rooms, named after flowers have red and gold signs above them (ours was Marigold) and the double wooden doors have old school o rings with a padlock to lock your room, If Wes Anderson was to make a film set in Ubud, he might choose Narasoma. 

We got amazing Balinese spa treatments overlooking the river that runs through the property after several days of highly active activity. 

Another day we hiked a ridgeline and walked through rice patties and small villages. We walked the monkey forest, watching babies mamas and grandpas swing, ramble and pull off the caps of unsuspecting tourists. We  met Ketut, a happy and pure spirited local artist who was featured in an exhibition about to open in the monkey forest gallery.  He showed us his large canvas and intricate classical paintings which we based on Ramayana stories and bucolic Balinese village life. The level of fine almost pencil like detail in his work and in all classical art that we saw was astonishing. The Balinese are crafty folk and in addition to painting are know for textiles, wood and stone carving and silversmithing.

Elisa and I took a silversmithing class and designed our own wedding bands featuring carnelians because flints of these stones can be found on rodeo beach in the Marin headlands (where Elisa and I met) if you look long and hard enough. The ring blessings on our other rings by our family and friends were not in vain. We did several ceremonies to transfer your blessings!

The first blessing occurred in a small nearby village known for the thousands of white egrets who return home to its trees each evening at sunset. Wings of white egrets over red roof tops, lush green rice patties and tropical forest. The spectacle was simple breathtaking. 

On our last Ubud day we traveled to Denpasar, the biggest city on the island where few tourists tend to roam. When we arrived, a gaggle of young girls were getting ready for a performance and dance competition  in the park. We visited the Bali Art Museum and learned about sacred swords, ancient trading coins and the barong dance we'd seen alongside an introduction to traditional Balinese life. Suffice to say that all aspects of traditional life are spiritual and celebrated (Bali literally means ceremony). 

Next we ventured into the Denpasar street market which is absolutely massive, crowded with pedestrians and motorbikes and filled with colorful cloth and a matrix of food vendors: coconuts, eggs, papaya slices, vegetables abound. We bought some snacks from a happy woman who spoke no English  but who smiled and patiently held up the amount for each treat we pointed to. Our main purpose for visiting Denpasar was to take in an evening of the annual and month long Bali Arts Festival, during which the very best Gamelan and dance groups perform battle royal style, two groups on the stage for the evening going song for song and dance for dance. This festival is revered across the island but scant few foreigners attend. I counted eight others all day in a crowd of thousands. To get to the festival we walked through throngs of carnival stalls which felt much like a makeshift street mall. There was even a mini carnival for kids with eerie Disney-esque merry go round animals. 

After taking in a sample of drama gong (Chinese opera meets Balinese soap opera) featuring the best gamelan ensemble I have ever heard we headed for the main event. The competing groups I should mention vie first in localized completions to make it to this stage and these cats were decked out in their mallet wielding gong smashing finest. The setting was grand with temple like gate walls as a back drop, the two groups flanked by sparkler shooting umbrellas facing each other and the dancers making grand entrances between the ensembles down seemingly ancient stone steps. The grooves were hypnotic and my ears buzzed as I moved between dissecting parts and absorbing the whole sound. As the evening wore on we realized that it might actually not be so easy to flag down a cab. As I mentioned, the crowd was practically all Balinese who, for the most part drive scooters, sometimes with up to four people on them. Elisa and I thought we might be destined for a night on the Denpasar streets as Ubud is an hour north. As the event was drawing to a close, I spotted two foreigners who were in attendance with a local. They were all speaking Italian and fortunately spoke English. The Balinese man, Ka de, called us a cab and offered to drive us to Ubud if the cab did not show. He also, as it turned out was the owner of Bali fantastic tours, the number one  tour company on the island. We had been looking for a driver and guide for the next day of travel and sightseeing and made plans with Ka de on the spot. While we were talking, a Taiwanese tourist who had taken Uber to the festival but had no internet or way home joined our group and we all headed for the exit. Though the cab driver said he was on his way, he never came. Ka de loaded Elisa and I, the Italians and the Taiwanese girl and his daughter and wife into his van and off we drove into the Denpasar night. He dropped the Taiwanese girl at her hotel and we stopped at Kade's house to drop off his wife and daughter and the Italians who were former clients and now house guests. Kade's house was unusual in that it was a cellphone store, tour office and home all in one.

Kade drove us back to Ubud at 11pm and basically saved our butts. We thanked him profusely and headed for a few hours of shut eye before the big day of travel.

Elisa and I purposefully left our last few days on Bali open to see where the winds might take us. We decided to conclude our time in Bali somewhere quite, remote and naturally gorgeous. We found the incomparable Munduk, 2.5 hours to the northwest of Ubud from which I began this post which I am now finishing on our flight to Singapore and Bangkok enroute to Siem Reap Cambodia. We will miss Bali - it really resonated with us but for now we say Sampai Joompa Bali (see you).