In a deep, cool ravine about a kilometre north of Ubud, magic is manifesting.
Down a steep set of stairs, a Javanese joglo sits in a green glade. Paths meander through shady fern gardens and copses of coffee and cocoa trees. Clumps of flowering shrubs, bamboos and spice trees line a quiet river. Ahead, the walls of the ravine are being carved into steps and terraces by a small army of workmen. Others tenderly water seedlings by the path.
A garden is being born.
For almost a year, five hectares of wild ravine in Kutuh Kaja has been painstakingly transformed into Ubud’s own Botanic Garden. The land, which has been contracted for 30 years, had never been used.
Why create a garden in fertile, flowering Ubud? Ironically in this place of gardens there is no quiet, traffic-free park near the town where one can find a sheltered corner for a picnic or a quiet read. No place for an early morning walk or jog far from the shattered sidewalks, roaring motorbikes and yapping dogs. There is lush green all around in Ubud, but nowhere to go and sit in it. Since moving here I’ve been searching for a sanctuary of tall trees and the healing silence of dense vegetation. I have high hopes that the Ubud Botanic Garden will be that special place.
Creating a garden here is a logistical and financial challenge for the German journalist whose inspiration it is. “Duke Puckler bankrupted himself twice building the Royal Gardens in Potsdam and Berlin,” Stefan Reisner reports as he shows me around. “I’m beginning to understand his obsession.” Reisner ran a small hotel in Petulu for several years. After selling it, he decided to generate something that would benefit Bali and safeguard its unique environment. The Garden will exhibit plant species from all over Bali and other parts of Indonesia, and will solicit advice from the National Botanic Gardens of Bedugul, Bogor, Zurich and Dublin. Its development is financed by private investors.
Stefan walks the many trails and steep paths several times a day as he oversees his ambitious project. I follow him through the nascent garden as he points out various microclimates and the plants they support. In the deepest shade of the ravine, a jungle of emerald ferns stands next to terrestrial orchids. At the top of a sunny bank nearby, the cactus-like dragon fruit are in elegant full bloom. In the ylang ylang by the path grows a rare Balinese orchid where it was discovered a few days earlier. “We’re finding new things all the time,” says Stefan.
The Ubud Botanic Garden will meld classical and modern themes. Niches have been carved into a steep part of cliff. Tranquil stone Buddhas gaze down at a circular tai chi and yoga grotto, soon to be sequestered behind rustling bamboo. Nearby, a large pond will feature the gigantic water lilies of Lake Victoria, with leaves up to a meter across. Stefan has designed and planted a maze; soon the growing shrubs will conceal the convoluted pathways. At the top of the garden, a formal Islamic garden is taking shape. Contemporary elements include a stylistic water feature at the entrance and a glass elevator to carry visitors down the steep ravine face.
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Setting up a garden is like painting with living material,” says.
Reisner. “You have to design knowing that the plants will grow, change and eventually die.” I tried to imagine the broad strokes of colour and texture that would drape the contours of the Garden in coming years. There are elements of wildness here -- patches of dense rainforest and vigorous vines between formal plantings. A deep gorge slashes the earth along one cliff, revealing the gleam of a river far below. And a dark fold in the cliff nearby explodes every evening as thousands of bats stream out to feed. Springs bubble from secret depths.
The concept of a Botanic Garden has changed over the centuries. Originally, a Garden was established to cultivate the rare plants brought home to Europe by adventurous travelers. Ordinary people didn’t travel much 200 years ago. It was prohibitively expensive (not to mention dangerous) to set sail in those little wooden ships. Many of these travelers were botanists and collectors. They would be gone for years, documenting and gathering plants from the tropics and bringing home seeds, cuttings and roots of species never seen before. Special glass buildings were constructed to protect these rarities from the northern climate, and parks were designed to show them off. The Botanic Garden became an exotic destination where families would go to see amazing trees, fruits and flowers from around the world. Times have changed. Travel is no longer rare. Now we value Botanic Gardens as sanctuaries of tranquility in an increasingly hectic world.
Landscape designer John Pettigrew has been involved in the project since its inception. “This is a great idea, it’s very exciting for Ubud,” he enthuses. “We’re bringing plants from all over the place.” John is consulting on the Gardens between his work with the Four Seasons, Oberoi, Begawan Giri, Bali Bird Park and private projects.
I flash forward a few years. Groups of school children are sketching the joglo in the fern grove. An old man is dozing in the shade of spice trees. There’s a Tai Chi glass going on in the Buddha Grotto. A group of tourists is photographing orchids, and a class of university students is listening to a lecture in the medicinal herb garden.
Thank you, Stefan, for sharing your dream. You’re creating not only a sustainable and appropriate tourist destination for Bali, but also an important focal point for the Ubud community. When the gates open in 2006, I’ll be first in line.
