On 'travel warnings' in paradise

Janet DeNeefe   |  Thu, 07/17/2008 10:10 AM  |  Surfing Bali

Before me as I write is a sea of gold; of Hindu princes, flying angels, trees, flowers and mountains.

My office is set cozily amidst gilded Balinese pavilions that bask under a glorious sun, flanked by statues of seductive goddesses and lily ponds.

A stone barong with wings bares his fangs at me from the base of the closest structure and begs me to challenge his cosmic authority.

A painted wooden lion looks on playfully in the distance. The sound of roosters crowing, motorbikes and barking dogs breaks the silence of nature.

In this "where the wild things are" garden, life rolls along at a lazy pace. Ferns and frangipanis overflow in the spaces between pebbled pathways and shocking pink and red hibiscuses hug the places in between.

Heavenly creatures rule in the loving arms of Ibu Pratiwi, Mother Earth. Are you starting to get the picture of this idyllic environment?

The cup of caf* latte alongside me beckons as I type. The scent of Arabica and Robusta remind me that Indonesian coffee is truly magnificent. The aroma of chicken curry floats in from the kitchen and tells me lunch is on its way.

Our house sits behind this dazzling golden sight in loving shades of pink with shutters flung open to breathe in the sweet tropical air. The weather is perfect: A happy 29 degrees and a gentle breeze blows in from the rice fields. Every now and then, staff drift past the doorway in slow motion, flashing soft smiles between laughter.

"Would you like some homemade dalumen?" asks Nyoman, our tiny cook who brings the leaves from home to make my favorite drink. Hard to say no!

Then come two small words in an email to disturb this unabridged harmony -- "Travel warning".

I open my email to find a letter stating that one of the writers in the line-up of the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival 2008 could not appear due to the "Travel Warning".

Apa? At first I stared at the words in bewilderment. I glanced outside to see glossy sunshine, offerings and a waft of incense. In the distance, was a tinkle of Gamelan. A warning to travel to Bali?

My mind drifted back to my time in Australia only two weeks ago, to news of a father hacking into his family with an axe, of a footballer being knocked over by a tram, of horrific car accidents and other grim events.

A travel warning to Bali? What should I fear in this loving environment? Isn't life one big travel warning: A journey of sorts marred by hardship and sorrow. It seems hard to believe that in Bali we are still branded with this gloomy title amidst a world that is out of control.

Alexis Wright, one of the Australian authors who will be appearing in the festival wrote in Tolerance, Prejudice and Fear: "Fear afflicts all Australians. Far from the being the lucky country, Australia is, in Manning Clarke's words, "the Frightened Country".

I sometimes wonder what has happened to the Australia of my childhood: That wonderfully relaxed and friendly place where life seemed so joyful. On my return visit the other day, unworthy media stories affecting Bali were being dragged out of the mud, yet again, and slapped on television, in between the reality TV show Big Brother and other nonsense programs.

I wandered into shopping centers and caught a glimpse of the new Australian profile: Ordered meals in restaurants for one that would feed a Balinese family. In the meantime, heart disease and diabetes is moving through the masses faster than a speeding bullet and the pharmaceuticals are laughing all the way to the bank.

In the Australia I grew up, we hardly listened to authority and prided ourselves on being independent and daring. We defied orders and created our own rules and topped it all with a "She'll be right mate!" Even the fact that it was a "she" seemed appropriate.

We laughed at ourselves in that famous self-deprecating manner that came to represent the easy-going Australian ethos. We sported a natural healthy glow from playing sport in the great outdoors. Now we just watch it on television from the comfort of a lazy-boy reclining chair. Dinner conversations focus on mortgages, motor cars and Botox.

Gideon Haigh states that, "there could hardly be a better description of the new Australian nationalism, circa 2007: shallow, thick-skinned, sure of itself, aloof from the world's problems, impervious to the suffering of others -- then retracting in angry confusion at the hint of questioning, raging petulantly when crossed, impassioned and empurpled about their country."

So what should we do with these Travel Warnings, Mr. Rudd? Where do we go from here because the shuttle cock is in your court.

In the meantime, I will bask in the Balinese sunshine and enjoy a small but satisfying bowl of steamed rice topped with all the trimmings this exotic island offers, happy in the knowledge that I live in a land where family obligations and community are paramount and old people live their days at home with loved ones. Because, after all, isn't that the mark of any culture?

And the only travel warning I care for is to never travel too far from Ubud.

 

Janet DeNeefe is the owner of Casa Luna and Indus Restaurants, author of Fragrant Rice, and founder and director of the Ubud Writers & Readers Festival. She also runs the Casa Luna Cooking School. She can be reached at jdeneefe@gmail.com.

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