Balinese Utopia Lures Foreigners

As an orang asing (foreigner), John could not own a land title, not even a single grain of sand, in Indonesia.
Therefore, he decided to rent. From whom? From Ketut, of course, who just happened to own a nice piece of land only ten minutes away, just up the road from the villagers preening their gaming cocks in the village streets of nearby Penestanan.

The location suited John. It was magical, with Mount Agung soaring into the sky, beyond the vibrant greens of rice paddies and palm trees.

John paid cash for a twenty-year lease on 400 square meters of tropical paradise. Of course, you can't put out a contract for paradise, so no papers were signed. "Business  in Bali relies upon friendship," Ketut reassured him. Once finished, the two-story house was "home" to John, like nowhere on earth. It was a traditional Balinese wanfrlan building. With its a/ang-a/ang, thatched roof, and coconut pillars, just like the one put up by Walter Spies, the "inventor" of Balinese painting. John's long dreamed of place of escape!

John enjoyed his paradise for five years, in perfect harmony with nature and Bali, and his landlord a friend.
Then he was called back home for family affairs. Before leaving, though, he entrusted the house to his good friend Ketut and even gave him some cash for maintenance. Once gone, his stay in California being longer than expected, he regularly sent money and letters. He knew he would return to the rice field landscape, the song of crickets, and the smile of Ketut.

But Bali had changed since that time of 1930s when Spies, Bonnet, and other artists first shaped the myths and clichs on which our modern expatriates still live. In the mythical and pre-tourist times of Bali, land had low economic value and could be given away as a gift. However, with the effects of rapid economic growth being increasingly felt, and tourism being the Trojan horse of capital investment, the Balinese perception of land is changing. Spurred by hotel construction, especially in the southern part of the island, land, in the hands of the natives, has become the most valuable commodity. The scarcity of land has created a gap between the landowners and landless Balinese. And that has changed the way people think. The times when land could be given away are long gone. The price of land is now often higher than the price of friendship. Land speculation, with all its social and personal consequences, has become one of the main features of modern Bali.

In the rush for land, the losers include dreamers like John Derrida. John came back to Bali four months ago, after spending two years in California. When he arrived, his dream-house had not changed outwardly, the rice fields were still green, and the gambling cocks sparked reds and blues, and Mount Agung forever the majestic pinnacle. The house was well kept, too, and as comfortable as ever. There was a problem, though: there was an Australian inside, who had rented it for twenty years, paying in cash, and without a contract; like John. John had no home and no legal leverage to get it back.

Previously published in Bali Today: Modernity, 2005, Kepustakaan Populer Gramedia. (Jean Couteau, editor).