We stopped at the Temple of Puru Ulun on the drive from Pemuteran to Ubud. While it had beautiful grounds, it seemed more designed for tourists than religion; mostly Balinese from other parts of the island were running around taking selfies. But the dragon statutes were quite impressive. As were several of the temples. Then the daily afternoon downpour began, so heavy that one road was flooded out and we scratched a trip to a UNESCO site, the terraced rice fields of Jatiluwah. We visited some other terraced rice fields a couple of days later but again it was a spot designed for tourists. All kinds of swings and nests formed perches for photos and there was even a zipline “The rice fields,” bemoaned Gusti, our main guide in Bali “are disappearing. The land is worth more for villas and resorts. And the young people don’t want to do the work.” I can’t blame them – it is backbreaking labor in the hot sun.
But we saw many rice fields the next morning when we were picked up at 5:30 am (aargh) by a local guide for a walking tour of Ubud and the surrounding rice paddies. First we visited the market which at 6:00 am was quite busy — there is little distinction between what you eat for the three meals a day here – every meal includes rice so the women get up early to go home and prepare food before the children are off to school so they can take some along. And vendors sell small baskets woven of palm leaves filled with flowers, leaves, etc. as blessings baskets which are left at various spots for the huge variety of gods of whom blessings are requested. I asked what happens to the baskets after they are offered and was told they are turned to compost but I am not sure there is any program collecting them. They just sort of lie around in the street.
We took a mostly well laid path through the peaceful and quiet rice fields that surround Ubud– neat rows of grasses at various stages of maturity. Some of the rows are true paddies with water around each plant, others have less water; the amount of water depends on the age of the plant. We passed coconut shells hanging in the sun to dry for use as firewood and some gorgeous flowers. There were one or two steep climbs, really steep climbs to get to the fields. There were also several spots where we had to cross some shallow-ish, (but still deep enough to hurt if you fell), ravines by way of jerry-rigged bridges. Between the climbing and the bridges this outing was far from my idea of a “walk”; Ira could overcome these difficulties more easily than me and was enraptured by the scene. At one point we stopped for tea the guide brought along and some sweets – various rice concoctions wrapped in coconut leaves. Small villages dotted our route and every now and then a coffee shop or warung (open air storefront) appeared out of nowhere. We saw many foreigners both European and Australian; they were likely staying at the smaller “B&B’’s along the rice field path. Ubud is home to many ex-pats because it is so cheap to live in Indonesia.
At the end of 6.3 miles and having climbed to an elevation equal to about 12 flights of steps we were each treated to a 90 minute Balinese massage at a spa along the river. Chiseled stone faces of gods and demons loomed out of rock walls that lined the stone path down to the changing area, where there were also hot and cold pools lined with natural stone. Natural stone is really beautiful but the walk to and from the massage room was. . er. . . a challenge. Another 4 slippery flights. But it was a terrific massage and much needed — I did not want to put my sweaty clothes back on and tried to talk the masseuse into letting me purchase the sarong used during the treatment to wear home but no dice.
We slept really well that night.
