Day 25 Among The Seekers

I was going to write about ear wax today but after careful consideration I decided to write about Ubud instead. Ubud is a half hour walk from the house and is the artistic, cultural and spiritual capital of Bali. The partiers go to the beaches at Kuta and Sanur and the seekers come here. When we were last here it still had the air of an out-of-the-way backpacker's secret with $10 bungalows and a steady diet of banana pancakes and chicken satay. Now it is definitely in-the-way, sporting more high end yoga retreats, botanical meditation spas and cruelty free tantric bee pollen smoothy emporia than anywhere this side of California. (I made the last one up.) Damn you Melissa Gilbert and Julia Roberts.

But here's the thing about Ubud, like most places it has layers. The most recent, most superficial layer described above may make you want to run screaming back to the village, especially when Ubud's main streets are so crowded you can barely move, breathe, think (except you can't because you can barely move, breathe, think, and its way too hot to run or scream anyway). But duck down a side lane, peek into a courtyard, come early in the morning and that layer instantly evaporates and the banana pancake layer reappears and, beneath that, the actual Bali layer. As stated before, Balinese culture is very much alive, admirably unflappable and serene in the midst of the tourist tumult. 

One of my less attractive qualities is that I like to judge people based on flimsy evidence. Like how they dress. I was in the Ubud Clinic (see disturbing ear wax reference above) when I saw the layers collide. Literally. A pair of westerners had foolishly decided to rent a car. Then they foolishly proceeded to plow into several Balinese motorbikes (not one, several!). Nobody was seriously injured, but the waiting room was entertaining. To begin with, Indonesian police uniforms are deeply impressive, especially when accented by dark sunglasses and especially when a whole bunch show up at once. The injured locals were accompanied by an array of family members coming and going, everyone appearing remarkably relaxed under the circumstances. My attention was however primarily focused on the anxious culprits and the golden opportunity to judge. Both were clad entirely in white and off white apres-yoga chic. She in layers of expensive looking scarves and fluttery gauzy garments and he in harem pants (!) and a t-shirt boldly emblazoned with the word "simple" in a faux Hindi font. I'm shallow and I'm mean, so I had a hard time concealing my mirth.

And what about me, am I a seeker? Yes, I  suppose I am. And yes, I'm a bit simple too.