Photos

I don't quite know when I started to HATE BALI. Was it the moment I stepped off the security of the Airport Departure gate that I felt exposed to the danger of travelling through this foreign, alien and hostile land? Was it the moment I checked into Yan's Beach Bungalow in Kuta, which the guesthouse was neither near the beach nor were there bungalows…Yan's was a fraudulent walking advertisement if ever there was one! Was it the moment when I experienced the natives converting US dollars to Rupiahs faster than the calculator? Was it the moment when I was greeted with, "Hello, ______ (place here whatever they were offering…massage, manicure, pedicure, tattoo, carved chess sets, HIV/AIDS/STDs)? Vely (no type-o here!) cheap plice (no type-o again)"? Was it the moment I was harassed by the vendors who, from this moment on, I will refer to as the toxic vermin, plague of locusts, flesh-eating scarabs, piranhas on land but wait, to call them these names would be to insult these unsuspecting bugs/fishes. I can not disrespect these wonderful creatures which serve a valuable purpose in the food chain. The vendors of Kuta…they have a special category all to themselves. They are the lowest of the low. They are the fungus that feeds from the mucous of the lanced boil of a dead monkey, how's' that for a specific category, huh? Can you tell that I REALLY HATE THEM WITH A PASSION! Do you suspect that I treated them with FULL MALICE, TOTAL DISCRIMINATION and EXTREME PREJUDICE? But really, when did I begin to find the sight of them repulsive and offensive?

It was a glorious sunny day in the island of Bali…8 am and only a couple of topless beach bunnies were sunning themselves along Kuta Beach. I found me a nice coconut tree-shaded area, spread my sarong, wiped my feet of fine-grained sand and started to read my HTML for Dummies book. I was having a great time! I was smiling a lot and thanking God for the gift of travel. I was admiring the blue-green waters of the Indian Ocean and noticing just how blue the sky was when THEY DESCENDED ON ME! The real culprits were the Japanese couple who sat near me and started to entertain the "legion". One woman who I have already said, "NO!" to came back and gave me a sample of the "massage" she was "good" in doing. A pack of rabid dogs (four women) bearing nail polish and various hair trinkets sat on my sarong and pestered me once more. For only 50,000 (yes fifty thousand!) Rupiahs I can have my hair and nails done. Then came the solitary shark with this henna and tattoo design book. I was still very much the happy, carefree albeit very aware tourist out enjoying the sun, sand and beach. But when they started to invade my personal space…I got scared. I started to frown, say NO! vehemently and even play deaf, mute, blind and dumb. Even the lovely lady from Darwin, Australia who tried to tell the swarm to lay off me, was warned to be quiet and was told it was not her business. The only way they were to leave me alone was to say yes to them. So, after two hours of being alternately scared, angered, indignant of my found piece of beach then scared again, I relented.

I am now tattooed, manicured and pedicured. Swimming dolphins adorn my right ankle and flowers surround my left wrist. My nails are shaped round, colored with black sparkly nail polish and white and pink flower designs. Oh yeah, when all four women worked on me…picture me with all limbs held by four women, the tattoo guy painting my ankle then wrist, I, sitting on my bag… I never felt so uncomfortable and in danger in all my life! What was a potentially hilarious event was really a horrible experience. I learned a lot from that morning. I came back to the beach, and why not? I love the beach! I am a certified beach comber! I returned, but this time I stayed well within the compounds of Kirikata Plaza Hotel. A few meters from Yan's is Kuta's premier five star hotel, so with the mentality that I am a tourist who can pay top dollar for security, I did my own invasion. I packed my day bag with water, sarong and book. I marched into the hotel through their park-like lobby and into the pool side and beach access. AH!!!!!! (sigh of relief)

I enjoyed my afternoon rest so much I stayed for the evening buffet dinner and Legong Dance show. My one regret was not bringing a spare roll of film...I missed taking pictures of the dance.

If my experience of Bali, sorry, Kuta is all that horrible, why did I not leave any sooner? Well, I have this concept that nothing is as it seems. I hold to this theory firmly. Nothing this bad is real. Something beautiful must be out there for why did God ever create Bali in the first place?

I bought a day tour. The guide, Madi. Interesting fella. Second child so his name is Madi. I learned that in the Balinese tradition they recycle names. The first child, be a she or a he, is always called Wayan, the second Madi, the third Inyoman, fourth I forget and if they have a fifth child they start with Wayan again. Interesting tradition, aye? And I though George Forman naming his kids George 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 is a bit too much. Ha ha ha I guess he can't beat the Balinese naming game. Another interesting thing I experienced here in Bali during the day tour was the impromptu celebration of temple worship and blessing. Little old ladies carrying chari (handmade offering of flowers, fruits, grains in a cocunut leaf basket) walk all day to place their offerings at temples. I read somewhere that Bali has the highest temple-per-capita or is it person, in the world. I'll agree because every place I look charis are everywhere---in front of home temples, on top of car dashboards, in front of stores and even the beach! It is a lovely tradition. It warmed my heart, that in this day and age of unbridled hedonism, there are still the Balinese (above and separate from the scum of Kuta) who faithfully sprinkle water on the offerings, light their incense and live a faithful life. Their religion: Hinduism, but with a unique island twist. My guidebook says the Balinese practice frontier Hinduism. Very appropriate to what I witnessed.

There are four ingredients to the worship offering. Rice, the symbol of prosperity which they place on their foreheads after the ceremony; flowers, which is the symbol of love; water, which is the symbol of purification and lastly, incense, that which connects the human soul to God. Despite the practice of Hinduism, the Balinese are monotheistic. They believe in a God ruling over Brahma, Krishna and one more. A pity I forget the name of the Almighty. Anyway, everything here is subject to the 210-day Hindu calendar cycle. And almost everyday a temple anniversary is celebrated with dance, song, music, art in terms of wonderfully carved wood panels and elaborately created charis.

So with all these rituals of faith, why do I still have this nagging feeling of fraud? Why do I still feel like everything is "staged"? As we pulled into the wood carving village of Batubulan (I think that is correct), there were wood carvers waiting for us. As soon as the van door was unlocked and the door opened, they took that as their cue to start the art making. As if the director said action, the artists started to carve, sandpaper and polish the "work-in-progress" art. Well as the others in the tour went in to pretend to buy, I decide to stay with the artists and watch. One guy polished the sand papered the same piece of wood for fifteen minutes without even looking at the blasted thing. Yeah. Fraud! Fraud I tell you!

At this point I got to thinking that even the extemporaneous show of dance feels like a Magic Kingdom event. David, Brit I travelled with, said it in one simple phrase. "We are in a theme park!" Yes, the cremation and burial ceremony where they place the ashes of the deceased in an elaborate float, spin it around to disorient the spirit so it won't cause mischief in the village feels like a Universal Studios theater performance. The Barong Dance, represented by a good tiger spirit and Kris Dance, men going in trance with the blade of the kris sword planted firmly on their chest were all good performances. But again they have that ubiquitous Disneyland-esque feel to them.

The guidebook blames international tourism for the devastation of Balinese culture. It seems that there are just too many surfing Australians, shopping Japanese, topless sunbathing Europeans and rude, lewd, loud, proud Americans. Tourists come to Bali to shop and buy the resort-organized vacation. With them they bring dollars which buys a hellavuh-lot in Bali. The conversion rate was something like 7,930 Rupiahs to one US dollar. I was dining on fresh seafood and vegetables for three dollars. My beauty and vanity purchase in the beach was close to $17. Everything is cheap. And all that I found amusing and interesting still in Bali will one day disappear. One day and one day soon even the faith will truly be gone and replaced with something ugly. I only feel sad and unfortunate to have come to Bali this late. Bali must have been a really great place to visit in the past.

Ah heck, I know of a good way to save Bali. Let Disney buy Bali. Really. It only costs $20 billion. What is that in the Disney empire book? A drop in the bucket. So, can't Disney just buy Bali and save the island from total devastation? It'd be a reasonable and sound purchase. The Balinese already speak English, they no longer need to be enrolled at the Disney Happy and Magic College, they already know and practice most of the rituals and routines of a good dance/song/music performance. Plus, the little old ladies are a quaint touch of realism. Really. I am going to start a campaign to get Disney or Universal Studios to buy Bali.

I am Mary Grace, disillusioned and de-mystified in Bali
April 2000

PS...there is only one other American I personally know who travelled extensively through this island, Amy Weller. I wonder what she feels about Bali. Her views might be a bit more enlightened than mine.