Balinese

If Ubud were a colour, it would be green. A rich, emerald green. Green is everywhere in Ubud. The wild dense jungle. The foliage veiling Leke Leke waterfall. Even the leaf wrapping the coconut rice cakes at Tukies. On any day, a mist rises from the layers of leaves that shroud Ubud in textures of green like a whispered secret.

UBUD

For years, I have been fascinated with Ubud. It is the cultural heart of Bali. A place that sings its praises rather than imitate something foreign. This is especially so for the food which I can’t stop waxing poetic about. Hearing this in the car, our driver Ngurah boasts affectionately, “We Balinese are very proud of our land.” And the land is abundant with ingredients that are transformed into an assortment of dishes – coffee and slow cooked pork sandwich at Montana Del Cafe, duck betutu at Murni’s Warung, turmeric rice grilled in banana leaf at Seniman Coffee, oxtail fried rice at Pison, gado gado rolls at D’tukad Coffee Club.

CACAO PLANTATION

Chocolate has always been for me a simple indulgence. A chocolate bar or nutella spread on a slice of bread. Chocolates have their humble beginnings in a plant. My first taste of a cacao seed at Cau Chocolates caught me off guard. It is a sharp contrast from the breakfast of homemade mixed fruit jams I had earlier at Sankara Suites. The taste is a blunt bitterness. It hits you hard like a swig of scotch served neat. The coaxing of the farmers is what brings out the chocolatey flavour of cacao that we are so attracted to. Later, the rich velvety taste of a chocolate ice cream, a taste that is nothing like the bitterness of its original rawness, gives me a newfound respect for farmers.

BABI GULING

Babi guling is an ordinary meal. Modest. No shiny silverware or linen tablecloths. But it is the pride and joy of the Balinese. At the entrance of Babi Guling Gung Cung, a whole pig is roasted to a deep auburn glow. A few ladies are the cooks. With every banana leaf atop a rattan plate, one of them crowns the rice and chopped meat with a crisp cut of pork skin. It is the mark of an authentic babi guling.

RICE TERRACES

It is still dawn when we reach Tegalalang rice terrace. The day before, Roy’s father had insisted on going at sunrise. “It’s the only way to see the rice terrace,” he said as a matter-of-factly. Or words to that effect. In the first light of day, we watch our driver weave through the rice fields that are growing greener with each passing second. He has lived in Ubud all his life and still, Tegalalang is an astounding sight. At this hour before the crowds flood the fields, Tegalalang is calm, peaceful. As the sunrise transforms the rice fields into a full-coloured film with the hum of waking birds as the background music, I am finally convinced: the sunrise is the only way to see the rice fields.

NUSANTARA BY LOCAVORE

Eating at Nusantara is like traversing the many islands of Indonesia. Outside the restaurant, a cook is fanning the fire into obedience as he roasts moringa leaves, base genep and ginger in coconut husks. It’s somewhat like a performance, but it’s much more practical than that (no, grilling indoors would have been absurd). It’s a prelude to the meal. And the meal is exquisite. Sawah duck cooked with star anise, nutmeg, kluwak and burnt coconut. Banana blossoms stir fried with chillies and leeks. A trevally grilled with candlenuts, soy sauce, coriander seeds and lemongrass. Nothing is familiar; everything is foreign. Our dinner is but a sampler of Indonesian cuisine. The rest? Well that remains a secret to be uncovered some other day.

When I heard that Nusa Penida is the Bali of 20 years ago, I knew that this island is for us. An island that is rough-round-the-edges. The roads are bumpy, the pavements are dusty and staircases to the beach are punctuated with ropes on hilly slopes. It is underdeveloped and requires more grit to explore. But Nusa Penida is an island of cliffs. Beautiful, towering cliffs. Beyond the palm trees that cluster in dishevelled forests are turquoise blues and chalk-white cliffs with grassy tops.

PENIDA COLADA

The order of the day is a lunch at Penida Colada, a place that has become somewhat of a Penida legend in its own right for Wayan and Liza’s innovative take on only locally-sourced island ingredients. It’s a beach bar that’s less Saint Tropez glamour and more tiki chic, more laid-back. Sunbathers in their swimsuits get off from their scooters for the loungers perched upfront at the ocean and light lunches of coconut crepes, jackfruit rendang burrito and tempe burgers. A couple plates of fried cauliflower later, the sun is already setting. The already-crisp sunbathers are emerging from the pebble beach and walking up to the bar for an aperitivo, their skin bronzed from a day spent at Penida Colada. Time idles by when there is the sun, sand and drinks for company. It’s a Saturday so a band is swooning the dinner crowd with pop music… and the drinks, they are ever-flowing.

SNORKELLING

The sun is just rising when we set out to look for manta rays in the southern part of the island with Wayan and Komang. These black wing-tipped creatures are hard to find. In fact, there is only one. We rock back and forth with the current, trying to see beyond the deep blue for a spot of black. In less than ten minutes, we are exhausted and swimming back to the boat. After fifteen minutes, we plunge into the blue water again and we see turtles eating, three of them. We can’t not stop gushing over the turtles. “Yum,” Komang exclaims, sharing in our joy. Three turtles are a lot of turtles. The next thirty minutes is spent floating above a large bed of coral blooming with a healthy glow. Throughout, I keep seeing the corals as vegetables. A few look like cabbages, another like a mushroom. These peculiarly-shaped plants are a distraction for my empty stomach. By the time we head back to Adiwana Warnakali, we are dizzy from the heat and saltwater. As we nurse our crusty sun-exposed skin in the shade, the most perfect tray of breakfast is served to our table – croissants with homemade passionfruit jam, freshly-cut fruits, juice, waffles and eggs benedict. This is the idea of Bali, a long breakfast after the sea.

Near Adiwana is a magical place we now know as Abasan. We wanted something not too far, something not too fussy. We were walking along a small road, a few convenience shops were already empty. A dog was sleeping. We were hoping to find something, anything. Then, we saw a place with tables and chairs here and there, there was nobody around. It was only 6, barely dinner time. But we were hungry after a day of snorkelling. Through the hatch, I watched the cook place the fish and squid on the grill and lightly season them with spices like the scenes of a silent movie. Slowly, he flipped the pieces of seafood in a calculated, tedious routine. He never kept his eyes off the grill. Every second counts. The reward was a plate of slightly charred seafood, tender with a bite.

BEACHES

After yet another perfect breakfast at Adiwana, we are off to explore Nusa Penida’s most extraordinary beaches. Only the bold dare venture into the natural pool of Angel’s Billabong where the waves would swoop in unannounced. Broken Beach is beautifully sculpted, an inlet that’s impossible to get to. The grande dame of them all is Kelingking Beach. A commanding structure that is treacherously hard to get to. Many are contemplating the journey down, most choose to stay behind. “Well, there’s a reason why there’s only two people down there,” an American says with a shrug. So we stay under the shade just before the stairs with perfect view of the beach, watching the two bold ones on a blissfully isolated white sand beach. For dinner, we make our way to the red tablecloth tables of Warung NG. The owner is telling us about the nyat nyat fish but I can’t resist a fried fish and all its crispy parts, fins and all. That’s the only proper way to have a deep fried fish.

BEACHES

Ever since Abasan, I have been searching for grilled fish on the island. Our driver takes us to Ogix Warung which faces the most beautiful stretch of the ocean in the west. The roads are rougher than the east and even more untamed greenery abounds. Once again, I wait as the fish is grilled over charcoal. Grilling takes time, a lot of time. At the entrance, a dog hops onto its master’s scooter before they rattle off. And after the utmost patience, the grilled fish is served to our table.

In the heat of the afternoon, the land is sunbaked. If not for our towel as a covering, we would have been fried like the fish from the day before. What can anyone do on a day like this? A swim of course. Diamond Beach is too far down and too beautiful to ruin with our footsteps. In the opposite direction, we climb the steps down to the bright blue sunbeds and coconut stalls at Atuh Beach. We splash about in the blue waters, a fresh coconut always nearby. When we are done, we hike up the limestone stairs to the dusty roads above where we can see coconut trees cascading in a valley. This is truly the Bali of 20 years ago.