Rice terraces and temple life in Bali

Bali is so many things to so many people. For Instagram influencers, it’s infinity pools and beach clubs. For surfers, it’s world-class breaks. For me, it was about getting away from all that and finding the Bali that existed before tourism took over.

I based myself in Ubud, the cultural center of the island. Yes, it’s touristy now, but the bones of something authentic remain. Every morning I’d wake to gamelan music drifting from a nearby temple. The Balinese practice of Hinduism is everywhere you look - offerings of flowers and incense on doorsteps, elaborate temple ceremonies, shrines in every shop and restaurant.

I spent a lot of time in the rice terraces around Ubud. Tegallalang is famous and crowded, but walk thirty minutes in any direction and you’ll find terraces with nobody there but you and the farmers. I’d hike through them in the early morning when the light was soft, watching the farmers work the paddies the same way their ancestors did.

The art villages around Ubud each specialize in something different. Mas is known for wood carving, and I spent an afternoon in a workshop watching an old master carve a Garuda with what looked like effortless precision. Batuan is famous for its painting style, highly detailed works showing religious scenes and daily life. I bought a small painting from an artist working out of his family compound.

Temple visits became a daily thing. Not the big tourist ones necessarily, but smaller neighborhood temples where ceremonies were happening. During Galungan, a major festival, every temple was decorated with bamboo poles and offerings, and the ceremonies went on for hours. I was often the only non-Balinese person there, but people would wave me in, offer me a place to sit.

The food was incredible, especially when I avoided Western restaurants and ate where locals ate. Nasi campur from warungs, mixed rice with small portions of different curries and sambals. Babi guling, the famous Balinese roast pig. And satay lilit, minced seafood wrapped around bamboo and grilled.

One evening I attended a Kecak fire dance at a temple. Seventy men in a circle chanting rhythmically while performers acted out a story from the Ramayana. It’s a tourist thing, sure, but sitting there as the sun set, the chanting echoing off temple walls, fire dancers leaping through flames, it still gave me chills.

What I realized about Bali is that you have to look past the obvious tourism layer. It’s there, unavoidably so, but underneath the island still has its soul. You just have to be willing to wake up early, walk further, and seek out the moments between the social media posts.