Ubud

A second time in Ubud. The main agenda? Ubud Writers & Readers Festival. Expectations? Nada.

Not having expectations was a bad thing, because this was supposed to be a (semi) business trip. I’m working on a book and publishing related project with a friend, and we are amateur. Attending this festival was (what we thought to be) a smart business move to tackle our cluelessness. Pretty naive? Of course. But, I think it is safe to consider anyone who enters book and publishing industry in a digital time like this as naive.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) my friend had to happily bail out from the trip (a little sprout is growing in her body, so it’s a happy bail out). Half of me was furious that she put me on the spot to go to the battleground all by myself; the other half actually felt relieved. When I’m on my own, I do things that I usually don’t and I weirdly become more comfortable to abruptly becoming more assertive-aggressive. Thank goodness, an impromptu not-so-new friend came into the picture. She happily took the spot and made the trip less self-talking and more note-taking to the random words or silence we exchanged.

A significant glitch in the festival was the cancellation on sessions that discuss on 1965 social political situation. This year marked the 50th year of the fiasco, and there were a number of commotion around that issue that – I feel – had laid path to the intense sentiment that was given to the UWRF15’s participation in carrying the issue; a couple of months ago Jokowi had met a group of women who suffered from 1965 and gave a positive gesture to the idea of reconciliation only to be later on followed by a statement by his own Coordinating Minister of Politic, Law, and Security that reconciliation does not mean apologise. I’m in a position that we really need the only way to move on from this part of our history is to admit that we messed up, that there were things that we shouldn’t have done, and that it was a mistake that the country (of course it would refer to some names that are somehow still have influences to the power constellation today) made. We need a bigger heart as a country to made this mistake, apparently we are not quite ready for that. The 1965 sessions dominated my must-attend session at UWRF15. Its cancellation was a bummer, but it easier to choose amongst the remaining sessions. Moreover, it’s Ubud, even if I got tired of the obsessive compulsive discussion over a book, an author, or a session, I could just have a break and escape to the nearby alley that leads to hills or just stop and walk to the coffee guys for the day’s special.

But other than that, I had so much fun. I fell in love (again) to Indonesian writings. (I have been reluctant to read Indonesian literature for the challenging scope of context that may ha thing that I fell at UWRF, though, was Indonesian literature, and sadly I am an unknowledgeable reader of it. I have always find it challenging to read Indonesian literature. As I grow as a bilingual and even teach Indonesian language, it occur to me that the writing and reading in Indonesian is more difficult. The art of written storytelling (in Indonesian) therefore is my biggest nemesis. For me its a clash when one words who are rich in vocabulary meets the limitation of others, hierarchy, mood and social distances.  Eka Kurniawan was the big name in the festival this year, he stole most of the stage, he was the talk of the town. (And was a man that can easily be found having his coffee, or beer, or just hanging waiting for the world to end in a warung.) I read his Lelaki Harimau and found his writing captivated my longing for a more Indonesian context to my reading/ writing consumption. It got the absurdity wrapped in reality – or reality wrapped in absurdity – that is always the hook of the book I read.

The trip was something that I needed. The Ubud Writes & Readers Festival is not a book festival where – I assume, as I have never been in one – the business dominates; at that kind of setting scouting for new talents and/or literary agents would be the acceptable move. And so as a writer and reader festival, it celebrates those who write and read; the two things I’ve enjoyed, have now become the object of my obsession, but had consumed significantly less than I should have had. So to be in a place where everyone puts  reading and writing as a main necessity was refreshing. It let me to adjust my perspectives and opportunities to expand. I am yet to explore a lot of part of this story telling world but the journey has been gratifying and humbling. It’s still going to be a lot of work on the project from now on. Yet the journey is one that I feel worth fighting for.

Rs