Despite the heat and the humidity, they kept inviting every human being to come and check their goods. The merchants would gladly put the highest price possible and let the buyer bargained. I smiled in secret. Even though those bule did not purchase or just passed them by, I knew that most of them enjoyed talking with them.
I wasn’t sure with their education history but when you were born as a common person in Indonesia means that you need to know how to survive. And the way the spoke with a few words of English they barely knew, two thumbs up were much appreciated. That’s what happened in the traditional market, and it keeps going every day.
Ubud was not my hometown, nor where I lived. Since I graduated from a university eight years ago, I became a nomad and always stayed in difference places every year. Not because I was a traveller, simply because I never satisfied and was unhappy all the time.
Bali Island was always my top destiny, especially Ubud. The small town in the center of the island was not a place for those who enjoyed parties and crowds. Instead, when you desperately need a quiet with peaceful balinese music, go get your afternoon tea nearby Jalan Raya Ubud and sip it with a bite of gorengan or pisang rai.
After a few years lived in United States and another part of the world, nothing can beat the taste of Indonesian Food. I was known as a sleeping monster before. A monster who had an incredible appetite and went to sleep afterward. The meaning was quite hilarious actually, but that’s the truth. Last time I remembered, I was too skinny to wear my regular jeans I had.
Well, I understood why the Portuguese, British, Dutch, and even Japan colonized us for hundred-hundred years to collect our spices. Look how beautiful and delectable the foods are, but please do mind with the sambal.
In response of Daily Post’s photo challenge “Tour Guide“: What do you love about where you live? Show us!