Treasure throve of all things mystical – that is Ubud. I was initially skeptical about visiting Ubud as I’m not a fan of competing with throngs of tourists, especially when I’m on a holiday. But Ubud proved me wrong, despite the busy traffic at certain times of the day and the never ending shops along the Main Street, Monkey Forest road, Hanoman Street, and Dewi Sita Street are the hidden back lanes that lead to vast green paddy fields that make a ready escape.

This little town holds dear to its traditions and so I observed. One afternoon we biked around and found ourselves stuck in traffic of people along Monkey Forest road. A good long line of nearly 1km of cars, bikes and people were sardine on the streets in gridlock. We waited patiently for it to pass and found out that a funeral procession was taking place. Family and friends of the deceased were walking the final march into Monkey Forest for the burial. Evidently, despite Ubud being a tourist hotspot, locals still went about their necessary traditions – even if it means causing a mad traffic jam.

Laid back as it is, I found old and young men sitting together with their fighter chickens chatting the afternoon away. While their wives watch over the children, men gather in the way they know best, chats and cock fights.

Religion also defines their culture, steep in religious beliefs, offerings are presented to their gods daily and scents of burning incense lingers in the air. Good luck charms are places at shops entrances, walkways and byways.

And in the midst of all this authenticity are hotels, cozy cafes, massage spas, cooking schools, clothing shops and art galleries polka dotted along uneven pathways. It is a mix of pleasant chaos where every Balinese supports one another to get an extra buck or two from the foreigner. Yours truly.

Exploring Lombok on a motorbike is perhaps the best way to get around. Weaving through traffic in Mataram, bee lining through small lanes and stumbling upon a treasure trove of a quiet pottery making village – Banyumulek.  Located north of Mataram, the city center in Lombok, Banyumulek is lined with shops selling terracotta and clay pottery. Venturing further in, away from the shops, we found the ‘heart of the workshop’ – ladies sitting in their verandahs busy molding, shaping and forming pots and vases. A parade of vases and pots lined the narrow roads sunbathing in the glorious warmth.

Men bicycling down tiny lanes with stacks of pottery tied at the back heading toward the smoking furnace of haystacks where the pots and vases are fired. Children help their mothers strap on stacks of wood for the furnace. Ladies at the furnace keep their eye on the heating pots occasionally flipping the haystacks to release the heat. Others squat around exchanging stories around the neighbourhood.

Villagers eyed us from a distance as we exchanged courtesy smiles. It was pretty evident that we were visitors and they were villagers. Perhaps not much tourists have ventured that far beyond the row of pottery shops. I chuckled under my breath because this would be an ideal a scene of “desperate housewives” in an Indonesian village setting.  Everyone had their chores, each to its own work, and each shared a bond – a bond that comes from being part of Banyumulek, the quiet pottery village.

We made our exit back to the shops to hunt for a pottery or two and gladly settled for four instead! We compared prices at different shops and realized that everything was cheap. Just as we thought it wouldn’t get any cheaper, Annan Pottery came along – a wholesale shop with a wide range of displays in a spacious warehouse. They even had a range of cookware from pots to kualis to tagines! I’ve been scouting around for a tagine ever since I watched the episode of Kylie Kwong where she whipped up a Moroccan meal for friends. And who would have thought I’d fine a tagine in Lombok, Indonesia?! I was squirming with excitement and proceed to ask how much it was. The lady explained that it is a fast selling item and it is slightly more expensive. I pressed on to ask her to reveal the price and she replied – 24,000 Indonesian rupiah for the small one and 30,000 Indonesian rupiah for the big one. My jaw dropped! That’s only RM8 and RM10 individually! Beyond my wildest dreams that I found a tagine in Lombok that costs close to nothing!

From then on, it was a shopping spree. We chatted up with the lady, she introduced us to her sons who were hard at work decorating pottery pieces. We drank coffee, picked up two more pottery pieces, exchange a few travel stories and a big hug. She told us to keep in touch and said that if we ever saw a piece of pottery we liked in a store or magazine; take a picture of it and send it to her, as she makes customized pieces as well. What a find!

If you are in Lombok, this is a place not to be missed. If you hire a guide, insist that he takes you here instead of other designated pottery shops where they make a big commission from your sales.

Annan Pottery (Wholesale Center)
Jalan Raya Banyumulek Kedin
Lombok Barat – NTB 83362
LA Akhsan Tel: 08175760337
Nanik Tel: 081803628480
Email: ananpottery@yahoo.com

An old shrunken man with a crown of grey hair peers through his glasses and regarded our presence. He quickly returned to his newspapers as we lingered on in his front yard fascinated by the wooded washed out signboard that read “Special Balinese Letter Writer”.

I walked up the steps to where he was sitting with his newspapers still in hand. I quickly greeted him “Selamat Soreh Pak” (Good afternoon Uncle). He instantly broke into a welcoming smile inviting us in. Dusting the bamboo lashed seats, he invited us to sit and he stowed away his newspapers and offered us some drinks. Once again, genuine Balinese hospitality astounded us.

Pakcik Wayan is perhaps the oldest Balinese inscriber in Tenganan, east of Bali. A vanishing craft of carving the ancient tales and the famous Ramayana story in Sanskrit on lontar leaves (from rontal trees).  Long rectangular leaves about 25cm in length are dried, cleaned and naturally treated to prevent the leaves from breaking and wrinkling. The leaves are in a shade of yellowish beige giving it a rustic look.

Beaming with pride, he uncovers booklets of lontar sheets are bound with vine and wrapped in newspapers. Prized art antiques, he explains that these booklets are passed down through generations and would never leave his family lineage despite extravagant offers from eyeing buyers. He unwraps a booklet and starts reading the story of Ramayana in a deep lyrical tune. The notes resonate in the air and my eyes caught sight of his overgrown nails curling up like ancient relic. Surely this man could pass for a character who stepped out an Asian folktale. He takes a breath and continues his rhythmic read. For a moment, time warped back and my hairs stood on ends.

This dying trade fortunately has been passed down to his daughter who continues to share and promote the craft in Ubud, Bali. Not only is it a tedious and meticulous craft, each leave takes about two days to complete and is sold for 1 million Indonesian Rupiah each (approximately RM300). Each booklet contains approximately 50-60 sheets and he has orders enough to keep him busy till the end of the year. Most of his buyers are from Europe with a love for antique art pieces.

Hopefully the next time I’m in Bali, Pakcik Wayan will still be sitting on his verandah with newspapers in hand ready to welcome us back to his amiable house, and if he wills to have another apprentice under his wings.

Interested traditional art collectors can get in touch with Pakcik I Wayan Muditadhnana at 036341178. His house is in Tenganan Village, off Candidasa.

At the sound of Bali, a few words instantly pops up – surfing, massage, culture, mystic, rice fields, babi guling, shopping and the list goes on. With so much to do and only 8 days to explore, it was an impossible feat. So we set out to do just what a holiday is meant to be – rest, relax and stumble on finds wherever our feet (or in this case) our bike takes us.

We arrived after sundown to a chaotic airport filled with touts offering taxi services. Rescued quickly by our driver, we were whisked away into a private car and off to Candidasa, east of Bali. Shocked by the change in atmosphere, we checked into our resort with a symphony of crickets and the gentle lapping of waves to greet us. Quiet. Stillness. Almost to the point of eeriness.

Originally Candidasa was a small fishermen’s village quietly tucked away from the limelight of Kuta, Denpasar and Sanur. Now this sleepy village is a well-known stopover for divers who are heading to Padang Bai, Amed or Tulamen. Dotted along the streets are cafes, restaurants, homestays, beauty parlours and local gerai’s (stalls).

We wasted no time in exploring the village, heading up to Amlapura the capital of Karangasem district. Buzzing with life, the local market is a must see. Vendors, fisherman, craftsmen and farmers display their items in baskets, trays and wooden planks. Children sit around twiddling their fingers or helping to sell an item or two. Tiny potholes fill the market floors creating little puddles of germ infested water, fish flopping frantically in shallow pails and meats hanging on hooks are all a norm in Asian markets. We bee lined pass the local crowd and quickly made our exit.

Biking past paddy fields and rolling hills, we arrived at Taman Ujung, a dated floating palace where the late King of Karangasem and his family lived. Literally elevated on a platform, the entire complex sits on stilts where water runs below. Royal pools adorn top of the palace overlooking a stunning sight of water and greens. Dainty huts along the platforms serve as shed. We basked in the splendor of ancient where Balinese women adorned in their sleek kebaya like dresses walk around this compound as servants or maidens of the king. A certain mystique lingers on.

After reading an article in Action Asia and missing the sight of a leopard during our South African safari, Yala National Park was a must as encounters with the agile spotted cat is almost guarantee (as safari guide claims). Descending from chilly Nuwara Eliya snaking down mountain slopes and onto wide open roads, the trip to Tissamaharama, a small town 24kms from Yala, was smooth one. The weather gradually changed from cold and dry to hot, arid and humid. Yala reflected the weather in the deserts of Dubai leaving a knot of dryness in our throats and trickles of sweat on our skin.

At Tissamaharama a, we checked into our hotel, treated ourselves to a serve of rice and curry and curd for dessert. We retired early that night to reserve energy for a pre-dawn start to our safari experience.  Yala National Park covers a vast area of 97,878 hectares mostly covered with dry vegetation of short thorny shrubs with patches of secondary forest interspersed between. The park is well known for it’s wildlife. Dubbed by Action Asia magazine as the “asian safari” spot, this national park is home to Asian Elephants, sambar deer, mongoose, water buffalos, sloth bear, crocodiles, pangolins and over 120 species of birds. The park’s coastline is a beautiful sight with historical significance and blocks of half torn buildings standing as a solemn memory of the 2004 tsunami.

We hired a safari guide who brought us into the park in his jeep at about 530am to beat the growing queue of jeeps rushing to go in. The atmosphere was tense, guides waited to purchase permits to enter while guests wait patiently in respective jeeps. This was incredible different from the South African safari experience we had in Kruger National Park. As soon as we got the permit, our guide rushed into the driver seat and drove rapidly pass the park gates.

We watched the solo elephant gallantly stroll pass swinging his clumsy trunk right and left. And we caught a peacock parading his fan in the bushes as we munched on our roti for breakfast. Yala is a pretty sight and the local guides need to learn how to respect it for what it has to offer, less nature and wildlife take a backseat.