Balinese utopia lures more foreigners to stay<\/p>\n
By Benito Lopulalan<\/p>\n
DENPASAR (JP): "When I found this beautiful place, I was
\nentranced by its magic," the Bavarian-American lady said. "I
\nquickly made up my mind; I, too, would build my little house in
\nBali. It would be Balinese in spirit and Western in comfort. Here
\nI would stay and enjoy life." She paused, looking around, then
\nadded, "That was three years ago, though. Now, after all this
\ntime spent in Ubud, I find myself lonely and homesick".<\/p>\n
This, from a person who has lived in at least ten different
\ncountries. She now felt the tug of her homeland. A few days later
\nI discovered that she was gone. She had given in to her
\nhomesickness, leaving behind her house in Bali.<\/p>\n
Lush rice paddies, white beaches and pretty dancers, Bali
\ndelivers. It has been the inspiration of many cliches; "Morning
\nof the world", as Nehru put it, or "Paradise Island", as the
\nbrochures have it.<\/p>\n
Bali is not lacking for ways to define its image and meaning
\nin the eyes of the world. Hordes of foreigners come to Bali
\nlooking for their dreamland. Most come for a short visit, but
\nothers become so enchanted they decide to stay. To all, Bali is
\nan idyllic place where beautiful people are thought to live in
\npeace and harmony with nature, far from the hassles and worries
\nof the world.<\/p>\n
It is the pursuit of this cliched utopia that sees more and
\nmore people eager to get into this island of the east and settle,
\nto join the natives in their paradise luxury, complete with 21st
\ncentury mod-cons and post-colonial servants; Preferably at pre-
\ncolonial prices. Ubud and Sanur are just two examples of places
\nwith sand, surf, beaches, rice fields or riversides which have
\nbecome the preferred choices for Western expatriates.<\/p>\n
Some expatriates have legitimate work, others find a reason to
\nlegally hang-out. When they are not multi-national workers, they
\nrun NGO-s, write articles, sell cookies, prepare Phds and design
\ngarments. In brief, they fulfill both Indonesia's needs as a
\nnewly-arrived industrial tiger and their own personal needs as
\nlong established hedonists.<\/p>\n
"I have lived abroad twenty years," explained a British woman
\nliving in Peliatan, naming Goa, Katmandu, Mykonos, Saint-Tropez
\nand Cancun as her past fare. Twenty two places in all. She had
\nbeen looking for her utopia, her own perfect combination of
\nfeeling and reason. A dream place where she could, at last, rest
\nand fear none of the dangers of the outside world and, in
\nparticular, none from that inner world, her spiritual self. She
\nis still searching.<\/p>\n
The place she dreams of is found in the word escape itself, in
\nthe idea of the "far away" and its imagined virtues and idealized
\npeople. This search for the "ideal" becomes an urge to travel, to
\nfind a new place where life can be defined in ways totally new.
\nAnd more importantly, in ways totally different from how they are
\ndefined conventionally; with its Jones's to be kept up with,
\ncareer concerns, tax bills and demanding lovers. It is this
\nsearch for the "different" and for new experiences which has
\ngiven birth to the new wave spirituality of our time, blending
\nmarginality, openness and sexual freedom.<\/p>\n
Greatest advantage<\/p>\n
Ketut Surajaya -- not his real name -- knows how to use the
\nBali cliches to their greatest advantage. And in Ketut's case, to
\ntheir greatest financial advantage too.<\/p>\n
Seven years ago, an American, one of those lost souls
\nmentioned above, we'll call John Derrida, wandered into the
\nCampuhan-Ubud restaurant. He met Ketut and, before long, he just
\nknew Ketut could build him his dream home in Bali. Needless to
\nsay, Ketut knew it too.<\/p>\n
As an orang asing (foreigner), he could not own a land title,
\nnot even a single grain of sand, in Indonesia. Therefore, he
\ndecided to rent. From whom? From Ketut, of course, who just
\nhappened to own a nice piece of land only ten minutes away, just
\nup the road from the villagers preening their gaming cocks in the
\nvillage streets of nearby Penestanan.<\/p>\n
The location suited John. It was magical, with Mount Agung
\nsoaring into the sky, beyond the vibrant greens of rice paddies
\nand palm trees.<\/p>\n
John paid cash for a twenty year lease on 400 square meters of
\ntropical paradise. Of course, you can't put out a contract for
\nparadise, so no papers signed.<\/p>\n
"Business in Bali relies upon friendship," Ketut reassured.<\/p>\n
Once finished, the two-story house was "home" to John, like
\nnowhere on earth. It was a traditional Balinese wantilan
\nbuilding. With its alang-alang, thatched roof, and coconut
\npillars, it was just like the one put up by Spies, the "inventor"
\nof Balinese painting. John's long dreamed for place of escape!<\/p>\n
John enjoyed his paradise for five years, in perfect harmony
\nwith nature and Bali, and his landlord a friend. Then he was
\ncalled back home for family affairs. Before leaving, though, he
\nentrusted the house to his good friend Ketut and even gave him
\nsome cash for maintenance. Once gone, his stay in California
\nbeing longer than expected, he regularly sent money and letters.
\nHe knew he would return to the rice field landscape, the song of
\ncrickets and the smile of Ketut.<\/p>\n
But Bali had changed since that time of 1930's when Spies,
\nBonnet and other artists first shaped the myths and cliches on
\nwhich our modern expatriates still live. In the mythical and pre-
\ntourist times of Bali, land had no economic value and could be
\ngiven away as a gift. Now, however, with the effects of rapid
\neconomic growth being increasingly felt, and tourism being the
\nTrojan horse of capital investment, the Balinese perception of
\nland is changing. Spurred by hotel construction, especially in
\nthe southern part of the island, land, in the hands of the
\nnatives, has become the most valuable commodity. The scarcity of
\nland has created a gap between the landowners and landless
\nBalinese. And that has changed the way people think. The times
\nwhen land could be given away are gone. The price of land is now
\noften higher than the price of friendship. Land speculation, with
\nall its social and personal consequences, has become one of the
\nmain features of modern Bali.<\/p>\n
In the rush for land, the losers include dreamers like John
\nDerrida. John came back to Bali four months ago, after spending
\ntwo years in California. When he arrived, his dream-house had not
\nchanged outwardly, the rice fields were still green, the gaming
\ncocks sparked reds and blues and Mount Agung forever the majestic
\npinnacle. The house was well-kept too, and as comfortable as
\never. There was a hitch, though; there was an Australian inside,
\nwho had rented it for twenty years, paying in cash, and without a
\ncontract, like John. John had no home and no legal leverage to
\nget it back. Perhaps the money has been well spent on
\ncockfighting.<\/p>\n
Perhaps John's only compensation is that the Australian's time
\nwill come too, and then the Japanese's and German's. But will
\nKetut's time ever come?<\/p>",
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