Ubud, a little love haven
Janet DeNeefe | Sat, 01/16/2010 2:08 PM | Features
The Best City in Asia . Ubudians are still glowing with Balinese pride over the lavish accolade bestowed on our beloved hometown. Esteemed US-based travel magazine Conde Nast delivered this news based on votes from more than 25,000 readers.
Ubud sailed in at number one, Bangkok hot on our heels, followed by a few other sad and sorry competitors (umm, don't mean to rub it in guys!) Of course, the question why Ubud is in the same category as the likes of bustling Bangkok or Hong Kong remains a complete mystery.
The other places in the running included Hong Kong, Chiang Mai, Kyoto , Singapore , Shanghai , Jaipur, Tokyo and Hanoi in that order. But, hey, let's not spoil a celebration!
Whether it is the strong presence of a vibrant culture, the friendliness of the people or the ambience, apparently we have it all. There is definitely a charm to Ubud that is hard to beat.
Heavens, I came once as a tourist and didn't leave! And with the recent filming frenzy of Eat Pray Love on the island, shot around the streets of this award-winning village, Ubud is about to enter the realms of Hollywood.
In Elizabeth Gilbert's best-selling memoir, Ubud represents the "love" part of her soul-searching journey. In fact, Ubud for many, is a little love haven. Perhaps one category Conde Nast omitted.
Liz, as she is affectionately known amongst her friends, hit the jackpot in Ubud and claimed the coveted Romeo trophy with no less than a handsome Brazilian. (Pssst. However word has it, he spent his entire youth in Australia ! Could the Latin lover just be your average Aussie bloke?)
But sit back and let me tell you another love story: a tale of a young Balinese woman and a European artist. Enter Han Snell and Ni Made Siti. Han Snell is a household name in Ubud. Hailing from Holland , the late Han Snell was an Ubud identity, an artist, and lived in Jalan Kajeng, that picturesque laneway beyond Caf* Lotus. This is Banjar Ubud Kaja territory, where I often go to participate in weddings, baby ceremonies and other rituals.
Han Snell arrived in Indonesia in 1946 to fight for the Dutch but was soon disillusioned with military duties. By 1950, he tossed in his uniform and applied for political asylum.
Indonesia had struck a chord and he wanted to make this verdant archipelago his home. He was granted Indonesian citizenship, packed his bags and ran to Bali : Pejeng to be precise. He eventually bought a small abode in Goa Gajah and set up his art studio.
News of the arrival of the dashing Dutchman spread through the village faster than a flying Dutch bullet. It was here that Snell met the young Ni Made Siti who was a seller in the village. She would often appear on his doorstep in the afternoons selling simple woodcarvings that her father had crafted.
In the mornings, Siti helped her mother, first in the ricefields and then at home. At night, she helped her sell coffee in their small warung. She was 14 when she met Snell.
In the meantime, Snell began painting with a passion. "I was deeply affected by the island's romantic surroundings," he was to say later. "Bali was a sleeping beauty and it was Bali that I painted".
Siti agreed to become his model and posed for the young artist. Her beauty was striking. She became his favourite, his muse, and in time they fell in love.
I'm such a sucker for romance and it was hard not to be touched by this sweet love-story. I gazed around their cozy sitting room looking at beautiful photos of a lifetime together spread like a statement across the walls: of the young couple laughing, seated together, holding each other, radiant. Star-crossed lovers caught in a moment of freedom.
Three years later, in 1957, they married or rather eloped, Ngerorod, Balinese-style. Siti was seventeen. "Marriage to westerners was relatively unheard of back then and my mother was angry because she didn't want me to leave home," Ibu Siti reminisced.
"You were so brave to marry a westerner back then!" I exclaimed.
"Maybe I was berani." Ibu Siti giggled, "But I didn't really think about it. And I already knew his character by the time we married. After that we moved to Ubud because my husband didn't like being so close to the family compound."
It seems Siti's daily visits home to perform chores for her anxious mother did not do much for their conjugal happiness. So they relocated, umm, about as far away as possible!
After returning from a boat trip to Amsterdam to visit the in-laws later that year, they bought land in Jl. Kajeng and set up a small home. In those days, Jl. Kajeng was a wild bamboo grove divided by a small track that stretched west to the ricefields.
Their home expanded over the years, as did their family. They had three children. Artists, politicians and ambassadors dropped in for cups of tea and purchased Snell's much sought after artwork.
Once in Ubud, Siti became a dancer in the palace, something she had always wished to do in the village but was not permitted to. Marriage to Han Snell brought a healthy dose of fame and she took it all in her stride. She graced the pages of international magazines and became the pin-up girl (albeit clothed) for the Garuda calendar.
But life was not always rosy. Ibu Siti retold the sad story of the tragic death of her younger sister, husband and young daughter in the fated Pan Am crash in 1974 on a return journey from Hong Kong to Denpasar.
Do you remember that? "I was heavily pregnant at that time and cried so much after that." The death of her young daughter in more recent years was also a tragedy.
There is something about Ibu Siti. She has an effervescence that would be impossible to bottle, a buoyant spirit that would never drown, a resilience that paved the way for a fascinating life. I kept thinking of her as a bobbing cork that floats but never sinks. At the age of seventy, there is barely a line on her smooth skin and her eyes are still sparkling with that same magnetism. Han Snell passed away in 1998 and was cremated soon after.
As I walked quietly out of the sitting room I noticed a photo of Ibu Siti with Han Snell in a crowded restaurant drinking wine, somewhere in Europe . "Where was this photo taken?" I asked curiously. "That was taken in 1965. We were at the Moulin Rouge in Paris ." "Is that French wine you are sipping?" I asked wistfully. "No, that's French champagne."
C'est la vie. The image of that photo will stay with me forever.
c Janet DeNeefe 2010
