July 26, 2011 – Ubud
So I have finally managed to peel myself away from Pemuteran more out of necessity than desire. I ended up feeling so at home there that I prolonged my trip from 3 days to a week. I am booked in Sanur starting tomorrow and had a few things that I can only pick up in Ubud that needed to be purchased so I am here for one night and one night only. I don’t know if it’s me or Ubud but this place has completely lost its charm. I left the peace of Pemuteran at 8:30 this morning and 3 hours later I wake up for my little car kip in the heart “when tourism goes bad”. I wish I could remember more clearly what Ubud was like when I was here …*cough* 17 years ago but I don’t really. I can imagine it was lovely. Now due to what I can only imagine is a community’s inability to say no to over saturation, Ubud is little more than a Kuta without the surf. Ubud is heralded as the cultural center of Bali - now I may be wrong but last time I checked I didn’t see Billabong shops, Paul Smith boutiques and bus load after bus load of camera snapping tourists as “Balinese Culture”. Ubud has become a parody of itself and not in the Snoop Dogg,” I’m going to play up how ridiculous I’ve become and laugh at myself while I do it” kinda way. Instead, Ubud still takes itself seriously. Well Ubud, I’m very sorry but you’re a vortex. You don’t emanate culture, you have devoured it and there is little left but the shadowy remnants of what you once were, and like most things shadowy, you leave me feeling a bit unsettled.
Perhaps it’s not so much Ubud that has changed, but me. It was only last year that I was here (twice!) but I guess having spent more time digging my toes into soils a bit less spoilt I can now see things more clearly. Amed, and even more so Pemuteran, are one road villages that lack all the modern “conveniences” that make Ubud so garish. No ATMs, no fancy shops…actually no shops at all for that matter, no throngs of tourists, no tacky tourist tat, no “transport, transport”. The people there understand that they are sitting on a gold mine of eco-tourism bliss and unlike the people of Ubud, for the time being at least, they seem to understand that in order to keep it that way, Paul Smith boutiques and neon are not the way to go. It’s a shame to see the disintegration of Ubud although I must admit that I think it was disintegrated when I was here last year, I just didn’t notice.
As day has turned to night and the bus loads of monkey ogling Japanese tourists have chugged back to Kuta and Sanur, things here have calmed a bit but there is still this strange feeling of pretense in the air. Everyone here seems to be pretending to be someone they are not and most of the people are trying to be are some incarnation of earth loving, yoga practicing, dreadlocked, new age, harem pant sporting travellers trying to “find themselves”.
“I’ve lost myself…it must be in Ubud...Eat,Pray,Love told me so!!!”
One can’t help but notice how many 30-40 something year old women are meandering around the streets here. The look on their faces is quite similar, if not disconcertingly almost identical. They are searching for their Wayan or Kutut Lyer, and most definitely they are looking for their Felipe. Poor things, they seem to have overlooked the fact that while Ms. Gilbert was here (which I can imagine was pre-Paul Smith boutique, neon nightmare era Ubud) she was also fulfilling a book contract and embellishment is best when looking to sell books to the ever hungry pre-menauposal-I-am-having-a-midlife-crisis-how-do-I-find-myself-I-want-to-feel-loved crowd. Bless you darlings, but how the hell do you think you’re going to find yourself in the absolute antithesis of tranquility? You’re not. Felipe’s not here anymore. Him and most like him seem to have run for the hills and let the tacky keychain slingers and harem pant boutiques take their place. Ketus Lyer probably has a cell phone and a fancy internet booking site now and Wayan’s remedies have most likely become watered down and packaged in predictable plastic “traditional” bottles. Ubud has died and this place has grown in its place.
Ubud, I will take my leave of you tomorrow and I am sorry to say that I will not miss you. Like lovers, we have grown apart. You have grown in one direction and I have grown in another. I wish you luck in your future, most likely you will find a sugar daddy who will squeeze the last ounces of exoticism out of you while you hold open your palm and wait for what you think it’s worth to drop down carelessly. I on the other hand will snuggle down in the arms of something that gently reminds me of what you were and not look back.
J
So I have finally managed to peel myself away from Pemuteran more out of necessity than desire. I ended up feeling so at home there that I prolonged my trip from 3 days to a week. I am booked in Sanur starting tomorrow and had a few things that I can only pick up in Ubud that needed to be purchased so I am here for one night and one night only. I don’t know if it’s me or Ubud but this place has completely lost its charm. I left the peace of Pemuteran at 8:30 this morning and 3 hours later I wake up for my little car kip in the heart “when tourism goes bad”. I wish I could remember more clearly what Ubud was like when I was here …*cough* 17 years ago but I don’t really. I can imagine it was lovely. Now due to what I can only imagine is a community’s inability to say no to over saturation, Ubud is little more than a Kuta without the surf. Ubud is heralded as the cultural center of Bali - now I may be wrong but last time I checked I didn’t see Billabong shops, Paul Smith boutiques and bus load after bus load of camera snapping tourists as “Balinese Culture”. Ubud has become a parody of itself and not in the Snoop Dogg,” I’m going to play up how ridiculous I’ve become and laugh at myself while I do it” kinda way. Instead, Ubud still takes itself seriously. Well Ubud, I’m very sorry but you’re a vortex. You don’t emanate culture, you have devoured it and there is little left but the shadowy remnants of what you once were, and like most things shadowy, you leave me feeling a bit unsettled.
Perhaps it’s not so much Ubud that has changed, but me. It was only last year that I was here (twice!) but I guess having spent more time digging my toes into soils a bit less spoilt I can now see things more clearly. Amed, and even more so Pemuteran, are one road villages that lack all the modern “conveniences” that make Ubud so garish. No ATMs, no fancy shops…actually no shops at all for that matter, no throngs of tourists, no tacky tourist tat, no “transport, transport”. The people there understand that they are sitting on a gold mine of eco-tourism bliss and unlike the people of Ubud, for the time being at least, they seem to understand that in order to keep it that way, Paul Smith boutiques and neon are not the way to go. It’s a shame to see the disintegration of Ubud although I must admit that I think it was disintegrated when I was here last year, I just didn’t notice.
As day has turned to night and the bus loads of monkey ogling Japanese tourists have chugged back to Kuta and Sanur, things here have calmed a bit but there is still this strange feeling of pretense in the air. Everyone here seems to be pretending to be someone they are not and most of the people are trying to be are some incarnation of earth loving, yoga practicing, dreadlocked, new age, harem pant sporting travellers trying to “find themselves”.
“I’ve lost myself…it must be in Ubud...Eat,Pray,Love told me so!!!”
One can’t help but notice how many 30-40 something year old women are meandering around the streets here. The look on their faces is quite similar, if not disconcertingly almost identical. They are searching for their Wayan or Kutut Lyer, and most definitely they are looking for their Felipe. Poor things, they seem to have overlooked the fact that while Ms. Gilbert was here (which I can imagine was pre-Paul Smith boutique, neon nightmare era Ubud) she was also fulfilling a book contract and embellishment is best when looking to sell books to the ever hungry pre-menauposal-I-am-having-a-midlife-crisis-how-do-I-find-myself-I-want-to-feel-loved crowd. Bless you darlings, but how the hell do you think you’re going to find yourself in the absolute antithesis of tranquility? You’re not. Felipe’s not here anymore. Him and most like him seem to have run for the hills and let the tacky keychain slingers and harem pant boutiques take their place. Ketus Lyer probably has a cell phone and a fancy internet booking site now and Wayan’s remedies have most likely become watered down and packaged in predictable plastic “traditional” bottles. Ubud has died and this place has grown in its place.
Ubud, I will take my leave of you tomorrow and I am sorry to say that I will not miss you. Like lovers, we have grown apart. You have grown in one direction and I have grown in another. I wish you luck in your future, most likely you will find a sugar daddy who will squeeze the last ounces of exoticism out of you while you hold open your palm and wait for what you think it’s worth to drop down carelessly. I on the other hand will snuggle down in the arms of something that gently reminds me of what you were and not look back.
J
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