By Vyt Karazija
A recent email from a friend who has been following my febrile maunderings, both in The Bali Times and online, gave me pause for thought. After saying some nice things (always pleasant to hear, even if undeserved) she went on to say about my more recent articles: “I seem to detect a note of angst…”
Hmm, I thought – she’s not wrong. My earlier articles did seem to focus on the funny, bizarre and absurdist side of Bali life. It was all new, and in the beginning, as a wide-eyed expat, I wrote more about the comedic travails of a bule in a strange land than about the darker aspects of local politics, regulatory shenanigans and endemic corruption.
But lately, my columns have been more about the systematised and creeping hostility faced by some foreigners here, and the difficulties that this creates. Not good, I thought. Has my joie de vivre truly been replaced by the dreaded expat ennui? Is the quality of my life now being measured by whatever angst du jour is being served by Warung Bali?
But her next two questions prompted even more introspection: “Are you a bit sorry you made the move? I am curious as to what you are feeling now about making the big move 15-odd months ago.” Oh dear. Based on the increasingly frequent articles where I whinge a lot, one could be forgiven for thinking that disillusionment and regret had set in. So I had a bit of a think about all this while at one of my regular sunset beach sojourns, and tried to crystallise my usually amorphous thoughts and feelings into something more precise, something that could be written down and analysed.
I failed, of course, because trying to distil the essence of one’s relationship with Bali into a few banal bullet points is like using PowerPoint slides in place of philosophical discourse. Coming to live in Bali is like peeling an onion. At first you just see the whole onion, and think that because you recognise the shape, colour, smell and texture, you know all about onions. My onion was appealing and quirky and I was delighted to play with it for a long time. Then I decided it was time to peel off the outer skin to explore new properties. I found them, but many were unexpected.
Some delighted me – the relaxed, unstressed and cheap lifestyle, the beaches and the people themselves. Some distressed me – the corruption, the difficulty of getting the police to do anything, the nightmare of bringing personal effects to this country and the belief of many locals here that foreigners are walking Automatic Teller Machines.
Inevitably, peeling off more layers of the Bali onion revealed complexities unheard of in a more ordinary vegetable. There is a depth and richness in each successive layer which can only be found in cultures other than one’s own. And just as inevitably, some of the gems uncovered by my search for underlying structure, mores, culture and practices were delightful – the vibrant cultures of the Indonesian people who live here, creating an eclectic, chaotic and wonderful mix, the vagaries of the tropical climate and the spectacular scenery in places other than south Bali.
Other revelations were less than inspiring. The increasing antipathy of the central government towards expats and their school-age children and the refusal to issue and renew KITAS permits was one. The imposition of an internet filter which slows down an already borderline network infrastructure is another. The use of “blasphemy” legislation to attack and vilify “heretics” in direct contravention of both the principles of Pancasila and the Indonesian Constitution is yet another. Throw in tacit government support of the criminal thugs of the Islamic Defenders Front and Bali’s short-sighted overdevelopment and you have a number of factors that tend to take the gloss off paradise for its residents.
So in retrospect, I guess I have been writing more about some of these latter aspects, simply because living here for a while exposes one to the broader socio-political issues that affect expat life, and some of these are not amenable to light-hearted writing styles. But does that mean that I have become a curmudgeonly old fart who is disillusioned with life in Bali? Some have unkindly pointed out that I was already one of those before I came here, so Bali life has not changed me one iota. I must reluctantly agree.
Am I sorry I made the move to Bali? A resounding no: Bali is a wonderful place to live, despite the chaos of its infrastructure and governance. The emerging democracy in the region is a crucible of frustration at times, but it promises a bright future if it is not hijacked by radical fringe elements, greed and corruption. Of course the place has flaws. But diamonds have flaws, too, and their value and beauty is unparalleled.
However, one outcome of all this unseemly introspection is the realisation that I am getting jaded, critical and cranky in my writing. I want to recapture some of the wide-eyed, dopey innocence I had before. I want to see the funny side of intransigence again, to feel the newness of this place regardless of my own ennui. I need a little time to do that.
That’s why this will be my last column; at least for a while.