Day 9: Ubud
I had no plans when I began my day. I thought I’d take it easy, have a long breakfast, do some writing. Maybe go see a rice terrace north of the city.
It started as just a long scooter taxi ride to Ceking rice terrace, pleasant, gradual ascent out of the city, passing by all kinds of craftspeople and handiworks. Intricately carved wooden doors and totem poles. Terracotta pots of all sizes. Woven baskets and lamp shades and bags. Metal and stone sculptures of animals, gods, and abstract shapes. On and on it went as the air grew cooler.
The rice terrace was just as stunning as the photos, though way more of a tourist trap than I’d anticipated. Travelers from all over Asia, Europe, and Latin America paid to wander through the striated rice fields and ride on large swings up and over the center abyss. “YEOW!” an unseen man yelled over and over again in time with the swing, or perhaps the zip line.
While doing my own light hiking from one side to the other, I managed to slide over the edge of the path into a pile of muddy sludge that my day-old sandal sunk right into. I blame the Russian family that stood obliviously blocking the path as I tried to pass by. Rude. Eventually, I spotted a PVC pipe poking out of the hill and rinsed my shoe off a bit. Still, its singular day of being pristine = behind it.
After the rice terrace, I decided to see what else was around and found a temple 10 minutes away that had a decent number of positive reviews, but not the 19,000 (!) of the most popular one. I hailed another scooter and off we went, twisting up and up and past green and gold irrigated fields with glassy rectangular pools of shallow water, like something out of a Studio Ghibli film. I wanted to take a pic, but a one-handed photo on a zooming scooter seemed too precarious. Safety first!
Just as we turned onto the temple road, I was accosted by a woman who saw the money I was trying to hand my scooter driver and immediately wrapped me in a sarong, then forced me into her shop. I don’t do well in haggle culture, and because I’d already planned to buy one of the patterned cloths before leaving Bali, I caved and way overpaid—though it was still less than $20 USD. Everything is too cheap in Bali. I overtip to compensate.
The temple was tucked far back into the rocks and trees and I had to descend a series of stone steps, cross a little wooden bridge, and walk through the crumbling gold-gilded pavilion littered with relics of ceremonies past before coming to the sign declaring that from that point on, shoes were forbidden. The temple itself turned out to be a modest but mystical structure carved into the rock covered in moss and otherwise unadorned.
My scooter driver had waited to take me back to Ubud, and I directed him to drop me at the Monkey Forest which I had little interest in but Max had said I should see. The jungly forest alone was worth the trip, though I spent my visit trying to avoid the groups of tourists blatantly ignoring the rules and attempting to feed and take selfies with the tiny mohawked monkeys who didn’t care one way or the other.
When the smell started getting to me, I left and walked the 30-some minutes through Ubud’s narrow, busy streets back to the hotel. After some pool time, I settled into my room to rewatch Crazy Rich Asians (requisite Singapore prep) and to have a WhatsApp call with my friend Casey’s Serbian astrologer, Jakov, who all my Midd friends have raved about.
I won’t go into detail, but I’m a double Leo with a Capricorn moon—though “not a typical one.” He said I tend toward seriousness, that the atmosphere is thicker for me. At one point, he called me an underground river, one who dwells in the deeper twists and turns of life, someone who craves deep connections and rejects anything shallow. Sounds about right.