Paddy fields
Today we determined to complete our interrupted walk from yesterday, only from the opposite direction. First we walked down the road a little way to the Monkey Forest. Forest is rather too grand actually, as it is hardly more than a small thicket, but I suppose Monkey Thicket doesn’t have quite the same ring about it. The monkeys were fun tho’, very tame + playful – I suppose the reason man likes to look at monkeys is because of their apparent humanity. Of limited appeal tho’ once we’d taken a couple of photos, we moved on. There is another temple in the grounds of the forest, but we were improperly dressed, in that we didn’t have a prayer scarf, so couldn’t enter. Not that we were too disappointed – it didn’t seem to be over spectacular, + run of the mill temples we’ve seen.
Moved on then to the road leading to Bedulu, cutting across some rice-paddies to get to it. Because of the nature of the crop + the land, the individual fields are tiny, + each one is surrounded by a narrow earth-bank, so that it can be flooded + drained at will, + some of these banks are wide enough to walk along. It is a pleasant way of walking, similar in mood, tho’ hardly in detail, to walking thro’ English fields. We were invited in to see the work of a local artist (an invitation that’s been extended many times by various people) + after making it clear that we had no money to buy, we accepted. There are many, many artists in Ubud, but it seems to me that so many of them, while technically very competent, lack originality, copying each other’s style + churning out pictures, sometimes simply reproducing a particular scene or design, perhaps changing the colour (to suit different living-room walls?) Bird and fish motifs are popular among all of the artists, as are quasi-classical scenes of the Hindu gods. I’m sure that if someone caught on to the idea of painting tourists with cameras, or street scenes including Kodak or Coke signs, he’d do very well, until everybody copied him. This particular chap, tho’ friendly enough, was run of the mill.
Gunung Kawi
From his house we walked until we came to the place we’d been halted yesterday, + caught a bemo from there to Bedula, + then another towards Tampaksiring. Talking to John the Kiwi that morning, he had told us of a temple somewhere on the road out to Tampaksiring, but nobody on the bemo seemed to understand where it was we wanted to go. We were hoping to catch a glimpse of a sign or something to help us, but to no avail, so, in frustrated desperation, we finally alighted at T., thinking we might as well have a look around there before returning. It was with some pleasure that we discovered that, quite by chance, we had arrived at the right place. It was called Gunung Kawi, + was approached by many steps, this time leading downwards into the valley. A donation was requested for admission, + another for a prayer shawl, then another for a guide. This last gentleman I gave Rp 50 to, with which he was less than impressed, but as he had attached himself to us unasked, + as we understood only a little of what he had to tell us, I hardly thought he deserved more.
The temple itself tho’ was excellent, impressive for its sheer size, + its valley setting. There were 4 huge burial towers set into the rock oo one cliff of the valley, + 5 more on the other, the Queens’ and Kings’ respectively, we were told. Gunung Kawi would come 3rd, I think, in my Top 10 of temples, after Tikal and Palenque. (Talk about name-dropping – I really should include Macchu Picchu for effect, only I haven’t been there.) On the way back, we were lured in to see a woodcarver’s work (on the same understanding as before), + tho’ he gave us free sweet potato, + one of his chess sets was quite nice, much better than the stuff they had in Kuta, I felt not even a twinge of temptation to buy.
The Kings
The Queens
Temple detail
Back at the main road, waiting for a bemo, we were approached by another man, another carver, as it turned out, + of course he invited us to look at his work. We did so, + I’m glad we did, since his stuff was in another class again, as much better than the previous chap’s work as his had been from the Kuta merchants. He had just one chess set, + it was fabulous, each piece a magnificent little sculpture. And he gave us his card – I think I could be strongly tempted to send for one of these when we’re back home + safely earning in England.
Home then, + I left Val, who wasn’t feeling too good, to rest up back at the losmen while I went down to take up Sr Blanco’s invitation. He was about this time, sitting in his open lounge, + seemed pleased to see me, even if he did at first confuse me with another visitor. To some extent he seemed almost a caricature of an artist, middle-aged, small, fine-featured, wearing a red polo-necked sweater under a loose red-checked shirt, black trousers, topping it off with a black beret. But he was not at all aloof, rather the reverse in fact, warm + confiding. He asked me to read out a small “poem” he had composed, based on an idea form his other visitor, my alter ego, + seemed pleased with my performance. And then we chatted, or more accurately, he talked + I listened, about a number of things – I can’t remember them all, tho’ they included a painting of his, his “creative method”; the relationship of creation, contemplation, + prayer (tho’ not prayer in its Christian sense), Shakespeare, the relationship of actor + audience, artist + audience; friendship; being creative not destructive; + sex. He also said that Koo Stark had been to visit him recently, a curious claim to make if not true. All in all it was a pleasant time, + I was once again invited to return if I should care to.
On the way home, I spotted one of the table-tennis games that are always going on, + stopped to watch. As I had hoped, I was invited to play, + I had a fine game against one young man, finally winning 2-1. This was most satisfying, especially since I had been 5-0 down in the first game, + 19-16 down in the 3rd. So I returned home feeling very pleased with life + myself. Another couple had moved into the room next door to us in the losmen, Bob + Joanna, along with small son Alexander, a spoilt + bawling brat. They were heading to eat at the same restaurant at which we had ordered our meal, so we went together. Val + I had previously ordered one of the specials, smoked duck, + I was hungrily looking forward to it. While Val, feeling rather frail, was a bit nervous about the enterprise. However, I was very disappointed with the outcome, especially as everyone had told us how good it was, + tho’ I ate my share, it was Val who enjoyed it the more. It was cold + greasy + somewhat unpalatable, I thought. Ah well. Still, it was pleasant to have someone else’s company for a while, tho’ we’re not really all that suited – Val + I get a little bored with each other’s exclusive company, I think.
And really quite another day to remember, with a long and productive walk, some magnificent temples, some culture (even if my encounter with Sr Blanco did have its cringe moments) and some great pictures. Apologies, by the way, for the recent quality of photos (esp in New Guinea.) Though it is absolutely the case that some of the photos are showing signs of fading away, I have also had various problems with cameras here and now, let alone forty years ago _necessary to get our photos off the pages of the album and into the blog. Am now resorting to my battered i-Phone, which is producing somer excellent results!
