The Hum of a Wooden Top in the Afternoon Lane

Listen for it in the late afternoon, when the heat lets go of the lane: a soft whip of rope, a thud on packed earth, then a low wooden hum that goes on and on.

Somebody has thrown a top.

Walk to the gate and you will find a small knot of neighborhood kids crouched in the dust by the compound wall, heads together, watching a carved wooden top spin itself upright. Nobody speaks while it turns. It leans, wobbles, rights itself, and hums a little longer than anyone expected. When it finally tips over and rolls, the whole group breaks into noise at once.

In Bali the top is a gangsing, and playing it is megangsing. The Balinese spinning top is turned by hand from hardwood, sometimes by a father or an uncle, sometimes bought for a few thousand rupiah at the market. The rope is wound tight around the body, the top is held just so, and then it is thrown down and the rope snapped back in one quick motion. Done well, it lands already spinning. Done badly, it skids off into the ditch, and everyone laughs, the thrower too.

Misty Ubud rice terraces at sunrise with coconut palms and temple roofs on the ridge

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The rules are simple. Whoever spins longest wins the round. In some games a second player tries to throw their top so it knocks the spinning one off its feet. Up in the hill villages of North Bali, around Gobleg in Buleleng, grown men still play with tops as big as two fists, in teams, at village gatherings. The tradition there was named part of Indonesia’s intangible cultural heritage in 2021. Here in the Ubud lanes it is smaller and looser: a few kids, one good top passed around, an hour before the call home for dinner.

If you’d like to try, ask. The kids are usually delighted to show a visitor how to wind the rope, and even more delighted when your first throw goes sideways. Ask your hosts to find out where tops are sold if you’d like to take one home. They pack small, and they last.

Private villa pool in Ubud with teak loungers, a carved stone wall and frangipani flowers floating in the water

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Ordinary afternoons like this are what a staffed villa Ubud stay gives you room for. Your crew knows the lane, and they know which gate the games happen outside. The same kids turn up in the voices that come down the lane at one and the splashes that come up from the river after school. Their older siblings are flying the kites that hum above the rice fields.

So tonight, when you hear that low hum through the garden wall, walk down to the gate. Stay to watch one top spin all the way down. That’s the best seat in the village.

Open blank notebook with a pencil, a glass of Balinese coffee and a small woven basket on a teak table

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