I have flown to Indonesia for the Ubud Readers & Writers Festival 2023 (URWF), a fascinating four days of inspirational talks with a wealth of literary talent that is held in Bali every October. The programme introduces a plethora of writers from all over the globe: novelists and screenwriters; poets and biographers; academics and political commentators; journalists, and even a song writer. I made a last-minute decision to join the fun, and it has been one of the great decisions of my life.
As I suspected, it has got a lot busier in Bali since I last dropped in, almost ten years ago. The road to Ubud is bumper to bumper traffic, all the way. The taxi driver promises it will take an hour and a half to reach Ubud from the airport. It takes three. The views across rice paddies have been submerged under endless concrete boxes: shops, hotels, houses, more shops. The motorbikes have reached plague proportions.
Before I become too despondent, my thoughtful driver pulls into a restaurant so I can visit the WC and grab a bite to eat. And I suddenly realize that the rice paddies and lush green gardens have not disappeared altogether, they are just hiding behind the phalanx of buildings hemming both sides of the narrow road. So, I order a fresh coconut and Ikan Goreng. This is a nostalgic favourite from our years in Thailand many moons ago – a whole fish, marinated and deep fried, so you can literally pick the flesh from the bones, crispy on the outside, soft in the centre.
I relax into my armchair to enjoy a peaceful moment on the terrace, overlooking those elusive rice paddies, the palm trees heavily pregnant with coconuts. I have forgotten what real humidity feels like and am immensely grateful for the breeze that dries the perspiration on my skin and gently rattles the palm fronds. Nonetheless, I am delighted when we finally reach my hotel and I can plunge under a cold shower with a gasp, as my core temperature drops twenty degrees in five seconds.
At the top end of town is Taman Baca, with one barn-like bamboo hall and a large marquee – which has air conditioning, thank heavens! Next door, at Indus Restaurant, a large terrace overlooks the valley, and is packed with chairs where eager readers gather to meet their favourite authors. At any time between 9am and 6pm all three venues are packed, while local hotels and restaurants are hosting book launches, poetry readings, dinner and discussion, art and music events, and writing masterclasses. It is impossible to get to everything – too many run concurrently, so it becomes a toss-up – but I do my best.
The URWF is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. Begun in the wake of the Bali bombings, it was conceived by Australian-born Janet DeNeefe, her Balinese husband Ketut Suardana, and their daughter Laksmi DeNeefe Suardana, to tempt visitors back to this popular holiday island. Twenty years on, it has proved a resounding success, and become a renowned event on the literary circuit. In 2020 and 2021, thanks to Covid, it became a ‘virtual’ event and went online, but it is now back in the real world with a vengeance. The theme this year is ‘Past, Present & Future.’ As the program says, the festival is showcasing established and emerging writers, artists and scholars ‘who will share their vision of history, current affairs and the future of our world.’
While there are all sorts of literary options, I am justifying my presence by sitting in on every session about biography, memoir and historical fiction – all relevant to my current research. Yet, between fabulous sessions with Australian historical novelists Anna Funder and Geraldine Brooks, Kurdish journalist and poet Behrouz Boochani, and Anglo-Nigerian fiction writer Bernadine Evaristo, there is still time to mingle with poets, journalists and short story writers. There are panels talking about climate change, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and political art. There are discussions on writing children’s books and crime fiction, trauma memoirs and historical fiction. We listen to talks with the women shaping Indonesian fiction and reflect on the two decades of the URWF. There were some terrific talkers, particularly when considering this is a demographic notorious for being introverted. And there were also some excellent moderators, such as Annabel Crabb, David Sly and Kirsti Melville.
Indisputably, there is a boatload of talent here, both established and emerging, but also a bright and enthusiastic array of spectators, from myriad countries, aged 8-80 years, and every colour of the gender rainbow. Ubud is buzzing. One evening, I attend a dinner on the far side of town. ‘River of Words’ is an eclectic gathering of poets, who weave magic with their words as we sip pomelo gin cocktails and nibble on a local version of skordalia spread thickly on chunks of lightly fried bread. Behrouz Boochani and the Palestinian poet Ghayath Almadhoun are joined by indigenous Australian Susie Anderson and a young Scot, Michael Pederson, with an awe-inspiring gift of the gab. We listen, entranced, and the tears flow at Almadhoun’s poem about his devastated homeland.
For four days and beyond, the flow of words and ideas is exhilarating and absorbing, intoxicating and habit-forming. My big tip is to book a flight and a ticket for 2024 as soon as possible. My smaller tip: book an hotel with a pool near the venue, so you can always pop out for a quick dip when the heat gets too oppressive. Now I’m off to cook up some Nasi Goreng and crank up the heating, and pretend I’m still in Ubud…
PS For any Redgum fans out there, I did ride on a motorbike, but didn’t crash, no Bali belly, no tropical rash, been there, done that, I’ve been to Bali too!