Sometimes ...

Sometimes you just have to wonder. Whenever we are walking, local people never fail to smile, greet, and of course some will hope that you will need their taxi, eat in their restaurant or to buy something from their shop. Return greetings and even polite refusals are accepted, often accompanied by a joke. The Balinese appear to have a great sense of humour and we have been told by many that they like Australians because we laugh at the same things. But most (many, by no means all) of the Westerners we encounter in passing stare ahead grim-faced or lower their gaze, failing to acknowledge that we are sharing the same narrow, pathway or pavement. City or countryside, it's the same. No smile, nod or greeting in return for our pagi or siang. You have to wonder why they are here, as they don't seem to be enjoying themselves.

And how difficult is it to acknowledge someone who invites you to try their food, or stop for a drink? It's salutory to be sitting in a cafe close to the pavement as the young Balinese staff greet each passer by. They might as well be invisible. No acknowledgment nearly every time. It must be demoralising to be constantly ignored. It's not hard to smile, shake your head, say no in a pleasant way, give some indication that you understand that they are trying to make a living even if on this occasion you can't contribute to it. Yes, it is tiring to be asked every few minutes, but a little pleasantness seems to go a long way.

Fortunately Ubud is not Kuta so we are spared some of the uglier aspects of Western behavour including public drunkenness and the wearing of offensive T-shirts. Kuta has grown as it has in response to demand, pure and simple. A certain type of visitor demands this rubbish and you can't really blame anyone who wants to profit from it. But it has certainly degraded life on some parts of the coast.

Life is quieter here, but even so we have witnessed disrespect on a number of occasions: the singlet-clad young males who lounged all over a cremation pyre laughing and joking as they waited for the ceremony to begin; the motorcyclist who ignored the angry protestations of the pecalang* as he wove his way through another funeral procession when all traffic at both ends had stopped in respect; and memorably, the road rage of yet another motorcyclist who, in frustration at being stuck behind a small bus in traffic, spat at the bus in full view of passengers, veered onto the pavement and almost knocked over an elderly Balinese woman carrying offerings on her head as he sped off. The traffic here can be horrendous but it is negotiated by a language of horns and delicate weaving that seems to be intuitively understood. Road rage? Not a chance of it starting with a Balinese person. We bring our anger and lack of respect with us to the (usually) polite bemusement of those who live here. It is impossible to know the nationalities of people like these, but we are all diminished by their actions.

Sometimes you just have to wonder.

*There is an interesting article about the role of pecalang, seen in the photo above, here.