Bali

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Casting off the snug cloak of certitude and comfort for the scruffy, patched up jacket of adventure always gets me high and my travels often bring me face to face with others who are enlivened with the same idea. I always thought we are identical in that sense.

Turns out we’re as identical as two similar looking ice cream flavours—both white and creamy—but one is speckled with Oreos and the other with brown chunks of caramel. And you don’t know which is which until you take a closer look. I did just that and found Seema’s travels amount to lounging by the sea, watching waves; Paul likes to visit local cafes; Jacelyn hikes in the wilderness while my friend William, a Miyazaki fan, visits Japanese sights that are inspirations for artistic settings featured in Studio Ghibli films.

I put myself under the microscope too and discover I’m the type that thrives to explore everything in the guidebook, from the touristy to the ‘nobody cares about’ sights. Until my hamstrings ache, I don’t feel I’ve travelled at all. And with this realisation came the desire to try a radically different travel style and see if I can still quench my curiosities and gain cultural insights.

Discreetly lit paths wound past majestic banyans, thickets of bamboos, ferns, climbers and coconut trees, leading to thatched roof cottages

Bali is my lab

I’d execute my plan in Bali—an Indonesian island, nine times the size of Mumbai and up the ante by restricting myself only to Ubud, Bali’s cultural capital. This trip wouldn’t be about spreading myself thin but about anchoring myself.

For 300k Rupiah, Agung was driving us from the airport to Ubud—but not without asking the question every cab driver in Bali enquires of his backseat passenger: What are your plans?

I had talked myself out of building an itinerary—a colour-coded table of hourly activities I fondly churn out before every trip and devoutly consult. So when Agung rattled a sequence of activities from exotic temple sightings and volcanic mountain visits to Kecak dance performances, I became increasingly nervous. A sarong clad resort staff saved me from spiralling down the wormhole of self-doubt by holding the car door for me to shuffle out and reconnaissance my base for the next four days. Discreetly lit paths wound past majestic banyans, thickets of bamboos, ferns, climbers and coconut trees, leading to thatched roof cottages. Number 27 was mine, with a mossy green door.

What has remained unchanged for centuries is their belief that it’s a cause for celebration when the departed soul crosses over to the spirit realm

Liberating days

Mornings began by waddling out of the four poster bed and settling on the porch facing a little garden enclosed by 3-feet brick wall. A bendy Frangipani stretched its arms like a sinewy dancer from the north west corner of the lawn and dropped pink flowers at my feet while a gecko riding a decorative stone elephant kept watch until the butterflies flitted in, which is when it scurried after them. Shafts of sunlight poured through the leaves and I saw gold dust dancing in the air which smelled of dew and pungent earth.

It was liberating to not be pulled away from this. Just because there wasn’t a plan in place I once joined the free morning walk offered by the resort and followed our guide to the paddy fields of Kedewatan village with nine enthusiasts. “We use an ancient irrigation system called Subak to water our fields. No pumping required”, said our guide. For thousands of years, Balinese farmers have cut deep into volcanic earth to feed water into aqueducts from where bamboo pipes carry the water to the top of rice fields and let gravity pull it down from terrace to terrace. Ingenious!

“Because of steep land prices in Bali…” explains our guide who has now gathered us at a graveyard “…mass cremations are economical”. A single cremation may cost $9,000! It sounds like a practical solution to a contemporary problem but what has remained unchanged for centuries is their belief that it’s a cause for celebration when the departed soul crosses over to the spirit realm. “Shedding tears is prohibited, especially upon the body of the deceased. It makes the passage difficult,” cautions our guide. “There’s a band! Everybody dresses up and feasts!” he adds. Our own morbid approach to death back home makes it hard to comprehend the Balinese way but it’s humbling to learn about it.

After breakfast I decide to stretch my legs and walk on JI Raya towards Ubud Centre, passing warungs [small eateries] promising “paddy field views”, spa parlours, convenience stores and craft shops like Pithecan Thropus, where I treat myself to a lovely batik wallet. The constant drone of mopeds swishing by keeps me company till I reach the wooden Campuhan bridge straddling the Wos river and overlooking a deep gorge.

Bridges Bali, a seven tiered restaurant, offers front row seats to this spectacular sight and I settle down on their roofed veranda with a cup of Rooibos. It feels like I am nestled inside a green womb, an experience so intimate that I spend several unplanned hours hypnotised by the tune of gurgling water and the bizarre maze of vegetation.

Every intricately detailed painting on the walls depicting Balinese life and legends was proof of his expertise in Keliki miniature painting

Bali up and close

Across the bridge is a discreet looking temple and one afternoon, when the weather was fine, I climbed down the stairs from the street and followed some shy teenage boys and their newfound girlfriends in school uniforms on what’s called the Campuhan Ridge Walk. Trust a gorgeous scenery such as this: an unending spindly road snaking through deep emerald valleys to soothe young romance. Their awkward handholding was soon replaced by whispers of sweet nothings.

The trail was occasionally steep and just as I was heaving from a climb, Wayan Surana flagged me down, invited me inside his modest art gallery and shoved his credentials into my hands. This was unnecessary because every intricately detailed painting on the walls depicting Balinese life and legends was proof of his expertise in Keliki miniature painting, a craft he’s been practising for over 20 years. “Art galleries demand hefty commissions, so I cut the middleman and sell directly to you”, he says. If only he’d thought of the studio’s visibility, he wouldn’t have to ambush prospective patrons. “It’s cheaper here, please, which one you like?” I sense his desperation, but buying art cannot be rushed. So I promise to return and walk back to the bridge, onwards to JI Hanoman, where the atmosphere is zingy.

Hard-nosed businessmen usually found negotiating with tourists are overseeing the placement of Penjor—majestic bamboo poles festooned with decorations—on either side of the road. Tomorrow is Galungan—a revered Balinese festival marking the victory of dharma over adharma.

“Penjor represents Basuki dragon, who protects us from evil”, says an onlooker as he relates the story behind the symbolism that essentially involves supplicating gods, defying demons and appeasing ancestral spirits. It seems everything in Bali, from birth and death ceremonies to ancient irrigation technique to subjects of miniature paintings, is affected by celestial and infernal interventions.

As I become aware of this, I begin to observe things I would’ve otherwise overlooked. My trip ends with dinner at Bebek Bengil and something tells me that the conical shape of that mound of steamed rice served with crispy duck isn’t merely decorative. “It represents our holy mountains—abode of God and ancestral spirits,” says the server. That’s when I knew my self-inflicted social experiment wasn’t a goner.

GOOD TO KNOW

When to visit

With mild and temperate weather year-round, Bali is always enticing. Nov – April can be slightly hotter and humid with brief torrential showers while May – Oct is fairly dry and great for outdoor activities.

Where to stay

Uma by COMO, Ubud is an ascetic hideaway in the lap of nature outfitted with luxe amenities. You are not just spoiled with a daily choice of activities, from cooking classes to adventure tours, but also by the unmatched hospitality of their staff.

Where to eat

A 15-minute walk on a narrow path flanked by expansive paddy fields, obscure cottages bellowing smoke out of their chimneys against an enormous blue sky transports you from the modern trappings of Ubud Center to the idyllic settings of Sari Organik, an organic farm and eatery where you can indulge in healthy, tasteful food paired with lush views and quietude.

Getting around

Ubud is best enjoyed on foot. Set off on nature treks in the nearby Campuhan and Kedewatan villages and when you miss Wi-Fi head to the town centre along Jl. Raya, Jl. Hanoman and Jl. Monkey Forest, where men hawking their taxi services are found every step of the way.

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Melbourne

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The license plates brightly announced: Victoria—The place to be. Was it propagation, reassurance or a testimonial? I needed none. Not now anyway. Freshly disembarked, the smell of disinfectant from the flight hadn’t even washed off my body. This slogan—which seemed more like a conclusion than a first impression—needed to be obliterated from my mind, if I were to form any sort of opinion. I had just reached the land down under—Melbourne to be precise.

First impressions

Although, in the age of Internet it would be untrue if I claim I didn’t have the slightest notion of how the city fared in the global mindset. Last year, Melbourne was named the world’s most liveable city by The Economist for the fourth consecutive year. As I watched immigration officers at Tullamarine airport welcome travellers with warm smiles, saying “How are you t’day?” and engaging in friendly chitchat, I considered moving here right away.

There are bigger factors that contribute to Melbourne’s liveability, but this geniality seemed to exude from every Melbournian I met—be it the African taxi driver, the Chinese sales person at the souvenir shop, the Greek ‘hotel concierge’ lady or the English cashier who warned me of impending bad weather and urged me to take shelter. Each one of them made Melbourne more likeable.

Going back in time

Wondering if the city’s cultural diversity and cosmopolitan heart are responsible for its openness and practised ease with foreigners, I entered the Immigration Museum on Finders Street. Turns out, the first immigration to Australia happened in 1788 with convict transportation from Britain. By 1850s penal transportation ceased and in 1851, the newly formed state of Victoria discovered gold beneath its surface, leading to the Victorian gold rush! Melbourne—Victoria’s capital, which served as a major port, experienced rapid growth and soon became the economic centre of Australian colonies. The gold boom brought a large amount of immigrants from England, Ireland, Wales, America, China and Germany.

Although people across the world were willing to migrate to this vast unknown landmass in the southern hemisphere for better prospects, the British were still the favoured kind. Early 20^th century saw the imminent ‘White Australia Policy’ meant to eliminate non-European migration.

Not for long though! Australia’s vulnerability after WWII led to calls for Australians to ‘populate or perish’. The British were still preferred, but immigrants from other countries were admitted to push population growth. Immigration policies no longer mentioned race. By the 1980s, family reunions became the most common criteria for migrating to Australia!

I spent nearly half a day reading through the fascinating ‘immigration timeline’, that stated by 1990s—nearly one in four Australians was born overseas. There are people from over 100 countries that are now Australian citizens. It was indeed symbolic that the immigration museum is located inside the beautifully restored Customs House, which was used to control immigration in the 19^th century and recorded every arrival at its doors. Exiting the building, I walked towards the iconic Flinders Station. On the way when I heard random gabble in all kinds of languages and find eateries selling pho, dumplings, souvlaki, doughnuts, and pasta in adjoining streets, it all made sense.

Roaming through the heart of Melbourne

Being wonderfully cosmopolitan is one of the many aspects of Melbourne that appealed to me. I am also a sucker for history. The trappings of the 21^st century hold abundant allure no doubt, but I’m equally fond of tracing elements of the past in a city’s present landscape. Little did I know that my day spent ambling in Melbourne’s CBD [Central Business District] and around would take me past many buildings featuring ancient architecture from the gold rush times, and juxtapose it with glimpses of the city’s modern, edgy style.

I settled by St. Paul’s Cathedral to watch hundreds of people crisscrossing each other at the traffic lights. Some were swallowed by the arched gate of Flinders Station, some glided into the swanky Federation Square and others cheered their way to Melbourne Cricket Ground [MCG] for the famous Boxing Day test match.

This area seemed to be the city’s default nucleus with emanating arteries carrying restless feet, zooming cars and rattling trams. No one seemed to stop. Everybody was heading somewhere.

So I followed suit and headed into Melbourne’s favourite hangout spots—her laneways. What started out during the gold rush era as dingy rear access to properties has tasted repurposed success today. As I walked along I realised that here, grunge is hip. Fancy boutiques, bookstores, cafes, pizzerias, soup and wrap joints are housed in narrow lanes with exposed wires, pipes, air-conditioning vents, graffiti and poster-covered walls.

The bustle of life is spilled right on the city’s cobbled street, with its tiny chairs and stools. I hunched over a ‘flat white’ [yes, this city has its own coffee style] on Degraves Street and watched tanned and toned Melbournians zip past. Suddenly, I was painfully conscious of the calories piling with every bite of my crepes with vanilla ice cream that I gorged on at Café Andiamo. With such scrumptious ‘MasterChef’ quality food available especially on the streets, I wondered how anybody could stay in shape.

Discovering the diversity of the people

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how Melbournians stay fit. The fact is that Melbournians love any kind of heart-pumping activity. This isn’t just manifested in establishments like MCG and Rod Laver Arena, which host prestigious championships, but also from watching every other person walking, running, cycling, rowing or  hiking somewhere in the city. And if that’s not enough, I’ve watched many people shop, run errands and even dine in spandex and sneakers, as if it’s some kind of code for ‘I’m always on the go’.

However, the more I wandered, the more convinced I became that these denizens of fast life are, in fact, multifaceted. Like their city, they’re a heady mix of Victorian refinement and contemporary ‘cool’. On one instance I saw them drinking cups of ‘Snow White’ tea at Hopetoun Tea Rooms inside the 19th century Block Arcade, dressed in brocade, silk scarves and pearls. At other times I found them in baggy overalls, spray cans in hand, making edgy art on the graffiti-covered walls of Hosier Lane. On yet other occasions they were decked up in Goth necklaces and skull-printed stockings queuing outside the Moorish Forum Theatre.

Peace in the midst of the bustle

Realising that I needed to recuperate, I decided to visit the Royal Botanical Gardens. Painting by the ornamental lake in this vast park still remains a fond memory of mine. While the tranquillity repaired my mind’s restlessness from an active day of sightseeing, my eyes feasted on the variegated foliage, mixed and matched to form the most pleasing landscape reflected in the water. Sulphur-crested cockatoos screeched in the branches and a lone duck waddled in search of food. I could have lounged here for hours.

Where Melbourne rates in my liveability index

Given the experience in Melbourne, it was hard to not get ahead of myself and indulge in harmless daydreaming. What if I moved here and wanted a place to stay? Well, I’ve my heart set on idyllic East Melbourne. I’d probably settle somewhere on George Street, Hotham Street or Gipps Street. This area has rows of 19th century Victorian era houses with elaborate iron lacework that could make anybody weak in the knees. I’d pick a quaint house here and ditch the flashy condos I see in construction everywhere else.

As I roamed the streets aimlessly, an avuncular resident watching me stopped to check if I needed assistance. “Are you looking for something?” he asked with the same warmth and concern I’d encountered many times before. I smiled at him. It was my last evening in Melbourne. “Not today,” I replied. But maybe someday, who knows!

The post Warm, friendly and multifaceted: That’s Melbourne for you! appeared first on Complete Wellbeing.