A religious procession makes its way down the streets in Ubud. Photo / Supplied
The natural energy of the jungle intertwines with the spirit on the streets of Ubud, writes Stephanie Holmes.
"The first thing I'm going to do when I get back to New Zealand," says the woman in front of me at the airport check-in queue, "is get a decent cup of coffee. I haven't had one all week."
I smile politely but I can only think she didn't look very hard because, in Bali, good coffee is as ubiquitous as it is at home.
The surge of expats and digital nomads basing themselves in this Indonesian hotspot have made it so — they've come in droves, setting up in shared working spaces, yoga studios and breezy vegan cafes, embracing the laid-back life and getting everywhere on scooter, obligatory surfboard clipped to their sides.
New cafes, bars and restaurants are opening every week and — somewhat incongruously — you'll find a tattoo shop, a vape shop and a barber on every block. The only problem when it comes to coffee is deciding what milk-substitute you want to put in it, and whether you want espresso, cold brew or aeropress.
Ubud, in the island's interior, is well away from the sports bars and drunken Aussies staggering the streets in their Bintang singlets. Here the jungle is intertwined with the city, the streets lined with Hindu temples, and ornate doorways adorned with flowers. It's a place with enough raw-food cafes and juice bars to make an Auckland hipster weak at the knees. Where sustainability is so on-trend the "straws" are stalks of fresh lemongrass, not plastic or paper.
Here, tanned divorcees live out their Eat, Pray, Love fantasies, getting cornrows and yoga-teaching qualifications, and taking raw-food chef certification courses for $2900 a pop.
The air smells like incense and citronella and the brooding clouds can break into torrential rain in a matter of seconds. Walk the streets and you'll pass roosters bred for fighting, strutting in restricted circles under wicker baskets, while dusty dogs wear themselves out barking at every passing scooter.
In the high-season rush hour, these scooters — with two, three, four people on board — line up in rows five abreast, trying to inch ahead of the cars at a standstill. It's a jumble of contradictions — chaos and calm coexisting.
Everywhere you look, there's a reminder of the country's devout religious culture. Unlike the rest of Indonesia — the world's largest Muslim nation — the majority of the population is Hindu, with less than 15 per cent following Islam, and fewer than 3 per cent Christian or Buddhist.
Rituals and ceremonies are part of daily life. Each day, roads will be closed indefinitely as a religious procession makes its way down the main street. Balinese Hindus believe gods and goddesses can be present in all things — people, animals, inanimate objects — so a stone statue outside a temple might represent a god and, for the locals, actually could be one. (How to tell? If you see a chequered sarong tied around a statue that means it has the spirit of a god within it.)
Every day, Balinese Hindus place a canang sari — an offering to the gods — outside their home or business. These small, square baskets are woven from young coconut leaves and filled with brightly coloured flowers — each colour representing a different god — topped with a burning incense stick. Sometimes there's the addition of candy, cigarettes, or even money, depending on what the household has to offer that day. These offerings are also used to ward off demon spirits and protect the residents' homes and families.
It's hard not to be affected by this deep spirituality. There's a tangible energy in the air and after just a few hours in Ubud I feel I'm breathing more fully. Perhaps that's helped by the dense jungle and rice paddies the city is built around; perhaps it's because of the tranquillity of my luxurious accommodation.
I'm staying at Como Uma Ubud, an idyllic resort nestled in the jungle where, even with the 46 villas at full capacity, it feels like I'm almost alone.
There's no main building; instead there's a series of public spaces arranged around a main pool, with rugged pathways leading to each villa sitting peacefully in its own private space.
My pool villa feels like it's at the edge of the Earth, situated above the Tjampuhan Valley and River Oos, surrounded by lush jungle and not a soul to be seen.
The highlight for me — as well as the light, airy interior, four-poster bed, and shower with indoor-outdoor flow — is the private infinity pool, perched on the jungle's edge.
There's natural energy all around me — squirrels scuttle up huge hardwood tree trunks, birds and monkeys call across the valley and the rain falls in fat, insistent drops.
There's a bar, two restaurants, a gym, a spa and yoga pavilion, and while the hotel offers complimentary shuttles into town and a full schedule of activities and events, it's almost impossible to leave. I don't think I've ever felt so peaceful and content. I read, I nap, I write; but mostly I just breathe in the fresh air and listen to the sounds of the jungle.
I drag myself away for a few hours to sample some of the eateries that friends have recommended. I'm too late to get into Mozaic and Locavore — these degustation restaurants book up months out. The Como is just across the road from Naughty Nuri's Warung where, according to the owners, Anthony Bourdain visited and left a note in the guest book saying it served the best martinis in the world.
You don't need to join the queues of Bourdain fans, though — the food is great everywhere in the city, especially for vegetarians and vegans, who are spoiled for choice.
My most memorable dinner comes at Uma Cucina, the Como's Italian restaurant. The food is excellent and the service exemplary ... especially when the ground begins to roll as the second of the August Lombok earthquakes strikes.
The wood and bamboo building moves with the quake's waves, but the staff stay calm as they usher diners down the spiral staircase and out to the driveway. We stand in the eerie quiet for a while, startled tourists drawing deeply on cigarettes, the locals seemingly unfazed.
The staff reassure each guest there's no tsunami warning to worry about. Besides, they say, we are on high ground, we'll be safe.
In the morning, after a night of strong aftershocks, the pavements are once more littered with canang saris. Perhaps this time the offerings are more urgent, asking the gods for calm, but you'd never know it from the locals' faces. The smiles are ever-present and the day continues as usual, the jungle giving new breath to the city once more.
GETTING THERE
Emirates flies direct from Auckland to Bali, with return Economy Class return fares starting from $1049.
ACCOMMODATION
A night's stay at Como Uma Ubud starts from $355 (restricted advanced purchase rate), inclusive of daily breakfast and one daily wellness activity. All rates are subject to 21 per cent taxes.
The trendy spot is just six minutes from the Waikiki beach.