Legian back in business, recovery slow

Legian back in business, recovery slow

Fitri Wulandari, The Jakarta Post, Denpasar, Bali

It's been almost three weeks since Jl. Legian was reopened to the
public after the bombing of two clubs in the street on Oct. 12.
But the once-lively tourist strip has turned into a deserted
street.

Shops, bars and restaurants that would usually have been busy
serving tourists are now open but lifeless, struggling to attract
customers.

Attractive shop displays have failed to attract passersby to
come and spend their money, and people ignore shop assistants'
blandishments to come and lihat-lihat (look around), as
apparently they are now more interested in viewing the bombsite.

The owners of some restaurants and shops could be observed
clearing away rubble from their establishments, or supervising
handymen fixing up their stores, which bore the brunt of the bomb
attack that killed nearly 200 people, mostly foreigners.

Shop assistants and waiting staff sit outside their premises,
chatting with friends to pass the time, with few guests or
customers to serve.

"I'm not in the mood anymore to go shopping here. It just
doesn't feel right to have fun after the bombing. Maybe later,"
Nita said, while taking photos of charred Paddy's bar.

The 30-year-old employee of a travel agent in Jakarta was
visiting the street, not to sample the former shopping mecca of
Kuta, but to see the bombsite.

Many other visitors did the same, slowing down business in the
street.

In almost no time, business in Jl. Legian has ground to an
almost complete halt, devastating those whose livelihood depends
on tourism, which had transformed the road from a narrow, bumpy,
dusty village lane into the heart of tourism in Kuta.

"I never imagined something like this could happen here, not
in Bali," said I Made Wendra, owner of Aquarius bed and breakfast
in Legian. His 35-room hotel, just walking distance from Paddy's,
is now nothing but a charred ruin.

It took only a few days after the bombing before Made Wendra
lost his customers. Previously, rooms in his hotel were rarely
empty but now he says, "I've only one guest staying at my hotel."

Made Wendra, who is also the leader of Kuta's Balinese
community, could not conceal his disappointment, which is
understandable. He was among the first locals to establish a
business in the area when tourism started to flourish in Kuta in
the early 1970s, turning the little fishing village into a area
bustling with tourists.

Back then, he started his business by renting one or two rooms
in his house to backpacking foreign travelers who were attracted
to Kuta beach.

"It was very easy then. You simply rented one or two rooms in
your house to travelers and served them fried bananas with coffee
or tea," he said.

Over the years, his business grew until he had a hotel for
low-budget travelers, and a restaurant. Many other Kuta locals
copied Made Wendra, turning the deserted village road into a
booming tourist attraction.

Like a new town, it soon attracted outsiders to settle and try
their luck. One of them was 46-year-old East Timorese Wandelius
Klaus, who fled troubled Dili, East Timor, shortly before the
referendum for independence in 1999 and settled in Bali to run an
art shop.

"At that time, I hoped that I could run a business here
because I had to abandon the one I had back in East Timor,"
Wandelius said.

Before the bombing, everything went well for Wandelius. On
good days, he managed to generate a turnover of around Rp 5
million a day, which enabled him to send his two sons to private
universities in Jakarta. But after the bombing, Wandelius now
faces an uncertain future.

"It's not easy. I know it's unlikely that people will come to
my store and shop at a time like this. But this is my only
business. It's better to try my luck than just sit at home, doing
nothing," he said.

His art shop, which sells handicrafts from all over the
country, was only a few meters away from Sari Club. Broken
windows in his shop were still unrepaired, witness to the
devastating blast.

Both Made Wendra and Wandelius could only hope nothing more
would occur that might force them to shut their businesses
altogether. They also hoped the Pemarisudha Karipubhaya
(purification ceremony) would help set the wheels of life in
motion and tourism in Bali back on track again.