Expat life in Ubud is a far cry from Seminyak and other
points south. Ubud has a singular lifestyle. With a few exceptions,
we are not very glamorous. Like members of small communities
everywhere, most of us are easily amused and go to bed early.
“You could fire a brass cannon down the main street
at midnight without hitting a single person,” a visitor
from Singapore marveled recently. Indeed, Ubud’s shattered
sidewalks roll up shortly after dinner except for a slumbering
dog or two; you could probably start loading the cannon
about 9:30. I’ve heard that there are now a couple
of clubs that stay open until after midnight and that one
of them even has a disk jockey who wears a tie, but I have
never been able to stay up late enough to check this out.
Conversely, my phone often rings at 7 in the morning by which
time I’m expected to be fully alert and ready to engage
in deep philosophical discussions.
Small communities seem to attract large personalities,
and these can require a lot of room. Living in a small
community is an interesting lesson in tolerance. There
is gossip and innuendo and occasional spectacular fisticuffs,
but at the end of the day there’s really no choice but
to get along with one another. In a town with only a few streets
there’s no way to avoid someone who may drive one to
distraction, so everyone finds the smooth path and as
the years go by discover that one’s become rather fond
of the most impossible people.
Outsiders assume that there is nothing much to do in
our sleepy little town, but we actually have quite a lively
social calendar if we so choose. Toute Ubud shows up for book
launches, restaurant anniversaries and community fund-raisers.
We meet one another for lunch or dinner or coffee, patronizing
some restaurants and boycotting others. When one of
us scores a side order of salmonella at a local eatery,
the news travels fast. However, we have been known to
put up with quite a lot if the drinks are cheap.
In an effort to bring some excitement to our bucolic lives,
several restaurants have taken to offering weekly events.
On Mondays, the Indus holds Latin American Night.
When Salsa teachers Made and Tasha arrive with their students
from Seminyak the dance floor sizzles, and even reclusive
expats holed up in remote banjars can be witnessed kicking
up their heels. One Monday a month there’s a poetry
slam here as well, a bilingual celebration of word weavers
declaiming into the night.
Ubud is such a quiet town that we sometimes go to Rotary Club
meetings for a change of scene on Tuesday nights, an activity
which really raises eyebrows when reported outside village
limits. On Wednesdays if Ariana is in town, women of
all ages, shapes and ethnicities climb the steep stairs to
the BaliSpirit Yoga Studio at dusk. Here we drape ourselves
in veils and outrageous jangling belts and learn the ancient
art of belly dancing. This involves isolating bits of
yourself you were barely aware you had, putting them way over
THERE and undulating them, then bringing them back again.
Wednesday is also Open Mike night at the Flava Lounge, providing
an opportunity for local musicians to strut their stuff.
Thursday is Tuna Night at Naughty Nuri’s, which has
become so popular that the banjar has to post traffic wardens
to help the crowds park along the road. Sometime during
the afternoon a recently deceased tuna is carried into the
kitchen, emerging later as neatly sliced sashimi or steaks
to be grilled at the roadside. The benches are packed
hip to hip after sunset with enthusiastic diners, many of
whom are parked in front of one of Brian’s legendary
martinis. Vegetarians and carnivores mingle cheerfully
at tabletop level while polite dogs negotiate for spare-rib
bones underfoot. But even here the lights are out before
11.
Friday is Quiz Night at the Fly. Over the years this has become
an institution with Ubudists who enjoy an intellectual
stretch. By 8:30, some of our most colourful characters
have assembled and divided into groups at separate tables.
The questions can be tough. Artists, retired university professors,
designers, healers and parrot breeders put their heads together
to debate square roots, the name of the Japanese Empress,
Indonesia’s largest bird....Looking around the room,
I recognize almost everyone present. And later
when I misjudge a three-point turn in the dark and put one
of my rear wheels into a deep ditch, nine gentlemen and a
dog cheerfully leave their beer and turn out to lift my old
car back on the road, bless them all.
On Saturday the Jazz Café kicks into top gear, a trendy
musical vortex for locals and tourists alike. A writer
from the more sophisticated night scene of the south was astonished
to observe couples turning up with toddlers in tow.
Everybody dances. The kids dance with each other or any available
adult, then curl up to sleep on the big floor cushions until
their parents are ready to leave. But even Ubud’s
favourite club complies with banjar rules and the music winds
down about 10:30.
By Sunday the socially active are quite worn out by all this
excitement, but can still choose to have an oil painting lesson
with Mori or roast lamb dinner at Delicat.
Some members of the community go to everything, some are selective,
some are so reclusive that they are spotted like rare birds
only at the supermarket on the day before Nyepi, stocking
up. Many of us talk about getting out more, but end
up in bed with a good (photocopied) book instead. And
are fast asleep well before the cannon echoes down Jalan
Raya Ubud at midnight.
