Notes from Bali

Mount Agung - View from my Window

As I sit at my desk to write this blog I overlook a beautiful valley: 500 meters away is a ridge on which locals (usually women) transport baskets of rice and bricks on their heads like worker ants, Mount Agung, a live volcano, smoulders in the distance and below the Sungai, a river used for white water rafting, twists and turns. I’m staying at the Bali Children’s Project’s house, a volunteer organisation whose mission it is to improve the lives of disadvantaged young people in Bali through education. Over the next four months I will be responsible for developing programmes which will include teaching English, business skills, healthcare, environmental awareness and meditation (a bit odd seeing as Bali is known as one of the most spiritual places on earth!).

To get acquainted with the island before I officially start work I have spent the last three days buzzing around on a moped. Amongst the paradisiacal backdrop of endless palm-tree lined rice paddies, lush plant life and arts and crafts to make the eye water is Ubud, my local town, which is the artistic heart of Bali.

One of Many Rice Paddies

Fearing the dilution of Balinese values and attitudes elsewhere on the island Ubud’s prince has tried to eliminate the toxic influence by banning billboards, night-markets’, cinemas, wheeled food stalls, dodgy cafes, bars and massage parlours. Yet perhaps the most toxic influence, western is rife. From the subtle addition to the many arts and crafts shops of paintings of Mick Jagger, Marylyn Monroe and Scarface among statues of Buddha, Hindu gods and goddesses and scenes of traditional Balinese life; to the huge infrastructure of internet cafes, tour services, money changers and luxury spas and yoga retreats (yoga only came to Bali 15 years ago) it is clear that even Ubud “the only real Balinese town on the island” is geared up in service of the westerner coming to escape the hum drum of the 9 to 5.

I found a super-charged version of this after a 30km ride to Kuta, attacked by Muslims in the infamous “Bali Bombings” for selling out to western influences. Lining a beautiful 4km beach are the ubiquitous KFC, McDonalds, Hard Rock Hotel, I love Bali T-Shirts Shops, nightclubs and not to forget the ethical and fair-trade experts Starbucks. So on the one hand in Bali’s two main cities we have the cultural centre for the sophisticated western traveller and on the other, a hedonistic playground for those you might find on a boozy night in Watford.

Kuta Beach

An offering

Nevertheless, Just a 1km walk from my house into the undergrowth opens the world of traditional Bali. Here outside every wood carved doorstop is a floral or food offering to the Gods that the locals offer several times a day. Villagers still acting out of benevolence offer friendly smiles. They also have a ceremony for everything from the coming full moon to repeated celebrations for the coming of a new born into the world with ceremonies at 3,6 and 9 months. However, the patriarchal systems rules here. Men do nothing. The women build the homes, cook, bring up the children and are pretty much married as slaves. In fact even if the man dies, the inheritance will go to the children not the wife. Interestingly, as a spin off of this system I have been given a maid. I am surprised that she is here to make me breakfast when I wake up, clean the house daily, wash my clothes etc. She keeps asking me if there is anything else she can do?

Doorway to BCP

So it seems little ambiguous what I am here to do. As tourism is by far the number one industry am I training the locals to be able to work in this industry which by its nature entices the locals into chance to aspire to our western materialism: mobile phones, wide screen TVs, gated houses and general self-interest? Or am I helping to give them the opportunity to empower themselves and their community? It is clear that the drug and tobacco companies have already chosen. The seductive Marlboro man is in town (90% of Balinese men smoke) and drug companies are heavily advertising the perfect antidote to modern life; the painkiller.

Still beyond the initial culture shock and ideological confusion neo-Balinese life is starting to grow on me. As I sit here writing this blog I can hear rushing water, birds chirping and am excited to meet my first group of twenty rural children tomorrow, many of whom have never met a westerner before. So too on the weekends I will have the chance the explore by bike the further reaches of Bali which include deserted beaches, local islands, great dive sites, volcanoes, botanical gardens and the opportunity to learn how to paint at the Ubud Museum of Art.

Another Volunteer's Class

Sampai jumpa lagi! (Catch you later!)