FRIEND POST : Prodita Sabarini

From Ubud to Jakarta: Returning to what’s real

Usually, every time I land my feet in Bali’s earth, I feel a sense of calm. It’s as if the alert Jakarta fast-pace-mode is gradually switching off by the signs of cleaner air, nicer smell – a combination of burned incense, pandan and coconut leaves, and flowers from the offerings for the gods scattered in virtually every corner in Bali – and of course less noise.

Last week, I went to Bali. The tranquil feeling only lasted for one night and was quickly replaced by the familiar work-your-ass attitude of Jakarta. But not only that; a weird sickening feeling came over me like a thin layer of sheet covering my body.

I really could not articulate the source of the sickening feeling. I thought, perhaps, it was because I came to Bali for work. So, while most of the people I see, which are tourists, are leisurely escaping their daily grind, by visiting the monkeys in the forests and walking at beautifully terraced rice paddies, I had to be there in Ubud, which felt like another world, and face my reality.

At my last day of my time in Bali, I met a friend, who was in Bali for a holiday. He said that he liked Bali more than Jakarta because in the island, he can escape from reality. And that was when it hit me. I knew where the sickening feeling came from.

I felt alienated. I was out of touch of the escapism of Bali. In Ubud especially, the area was so touristy. It’s as if, the town with its guesthouse, hotels, and resorts, does not serve the daily life of its inhabitants anymore. It’s a showcase for tourists. Even the rice paddies seemed too decorative. I stayed in a budget guesthouse overlooking a rice paddy. It was beautiful, but I’m pretty sure the main purpose of rice paddies were for aesthetic purposes rather than functionality.

Ubud is like a beautiful woman or man – depending on your liking – whose sole purpose is to look pretty. Actually, it’s more like someone who tries so hard to impress to be liked. Just imagine someone, who dresses nicely all the time; whose face is perfectly painted all the time; who acts super nice all the time. It’s hard to have a sense of what’s real from the person. And you would wish, just for once that that person would take of his or her masks and just be themselves.

For someone whose visit was not for the reason for escapism, the whole tourist tailored atmosphere felt suffocating. I’m pretty sure I would feel greater sense of normalcy in Denpasar, rather than Ubud. Imagine, living in a town, not as a visitor, but as a settler, and seeing day by day your town being invaded by tourists having their moment of escapism.

I would have been driven crazy if I had to live like that. Depending on the seriousness of the situation, I might scream to the tourists “My town is not an escape!”. After all, I would be the one who is living there, not the tourists. It should be a town that is real to its inhabitants; not its guests.

So, evidently, I could not wait to return to Jakarta. When my plane landed in Jakarta, the smell of the city; the glimmering lights; the honking of cars, gave me that warm familiar feeling in my gut. It's chaotic. It's home. It's real.

* Odit is a dear friend. She's the Features Desk Reporter for The Jakarta Post. She wrote this after her short trip in Ubud, Bali, covering the 2010 Ubud Writers & Readers Festival. Read more of Odit's daily writings here.