The Ubud Writers and Readers Festival 2009 in Bali: a report card and photo gallery

Where's Wally? Can you spot Marie in the Ubud market?

Clue: Here she is, doing battle for beaded baskets.

We decided at the last moment to attend the Ubud Writers and Readers Festival (central Bali). Met some wonderful people and heard some stimulating ideas, both literary and political. The mood was co-operative and friendly, the organization was good [including the box office - thanks, Andy], and the scenery around Ubud is nothing short of jaw-dropping. Overall? Worth every rupiah.

 Especially poignant and challenging were the films of Asitha Ameresekere, the British-Srilankan writer (Do Not Erase and 14). Brilliant: I hereby award an honorary Ubud Bafta in addition to his real and deserved Bafta. Likewise, I was gratified to listen to the warm empathy and cool logic of Antony Loewenstein, who calls himself a human being first, and a Jew second. His comprehensive demolition of Israel's inhumane policies towards Palestinians was both eloquent and reassuring... as if I needed convincing. At least while listening to him being interviewed by ABC presenter Dominique Schwartz, the words "compassionate Israeli" no longer represented an oxymoron. Seek out his book My Israel Question (Melbourne University Publishing, 2008). Also of note was Sushma Joshi the Nepalese writer and film-maker. Would that I had time to have heard everyone.

Ubud transforms into a Mini-Australia during the four days of the festival. Strayan accents are everywhere in this part of Indonesia, mite. You can watch AFL football on big screens, eat BBQ stikes and snag semmiches with tamada sauce, or even visit a full branch(!) of the Commonwealth Bank. Bali is, for better or for worse, re-branding itself as New Brisbane - and nowhere more true than at Kuta Beach [= Gold Coast look-alike]. Why bother leaving home?

This Oz-factor might account to some extent for the rather more parochial cultural awareness which sometimes became awkwardly evident at panel discussions - and especially Question-Times which occasionally resembled benign fireside chats. Compare my blog post describing our visit to the Galle Literary Festival in Sri Lanka in early 2009, where the average cut-and-thrust of debate was broadly informed, ear-massagingly articulate, and intellectually incisive (Er, how curious that an ex-colony of England should be so erudite; Straya still remains a colony trapped in Time, helplessly tethered by umbilical cord to the Queen of England... (ooops, now I'll be unpopular with the Tories :-)

Here's a glimpse of Ubud's spectacular Welcome Ceremony and feast, complete with Gamelan Orchestra and representatives from the Balinese Royal Family:

 Of course, there are regular dance performances such as the rhythmically intriguing Kecak ritual performance with its imitation of the chattering noises of a troupe of monkeys:

...and the Fire Dance, where the chief honcho is allegedly in a trance, running barefoot through a pile of burning coconuts, scattering them [sometimes alarmingly close to audience members]:

 His offsiders then helpfully sweep the hot coals back into a pile in the centre. Our man circles tentatively, then charges again:

   ...and when it's all burnt out he collapses, a priest sprinkles him with holy water, and he recovers from the trance while people shower money into his lap. Recovery time seems to be largely contingent upon the rate of flow of money:

 Marie again, displaying periodic retail intentions:

Here's a most alluring statue of a monkey, placed strategically near tourist shops on Monkey Forest Road:

...and it's a fact that Ubud is a focal point for the Arts [read: "Boho Central"],very much analagous to the status of Chiangmai here in Thailand. So many galleries, so little time... many paintings, not much Art... but this one was at least interesting from the outside [complete with woman hanging in the tree]:

 In spite of the pervasive Australianization [especially the menu choices], there's still enough genuine Bali left at the moment... if you hurry. Here are some general photos from our visit, beginning with a snap taken during a stroll through rice paddies 5 minutes walk from town. Getting pleasantly lost is the objective:

  ...and yes, it really is so green. The tradition of spirit houses appears to be similar to that in Thailand, especially in rural areas. Bali is a Hindu community, so food/flower offerings are ubiquitous along pavements outside front doors. They are believed to be consumed instantaneously by resident Deities, so it doesn't appear to matter that the offerings soon get walked on, driven over, or eaten by domestic animals.

Offerings at major shrines, however, get a better deal:

 The Balinese are a gentle and co-operative culture. In this photo, men prepare food in front of a temple in preparation for a forthcoming Hindu festival:

  No, this next pic isn't the Temple of the Purple-Legged Hindu Goddess of Python-Skin Handbags... it's Marie on the steps of a typical Guest-house:

 ...speaking of which, this next pic was the side-gate to the first guest-house we stayed at, the Puri Saraswati, a medium-range joint.  Our room is in the background:

 ..........   ........... (Hey, you shoulda oughta seen the front gate! phwoarrh!)

....and next, this was someone's garage and private front gate (note the spirit-house on the right):

As you can see, everything is covered by a delicate growth of dignified moss due to the abundant moisture and humidity:

 It seems the traditional image of the boat as mascot of food providers is as strong here in Bali as it is in Thailand. Canoes feature outside many restaurants. But this disused vendor cart was certainly a novel take on a familiar theme:

 ...and tradition perseveres in the stone-carving trade, although it may well be motivated these days by the need to please tourists:

 In conclusion, two pix which represent the real Bali. A typical pavement:

 ...and a Balinese-style skip, complete with de rigeur moss: