Bali has historically been known as a picture-perfect postcard island ever since Westerners began strolling over its pristine beaches nearly a century ago.
To a large extent this reputation is well earned- Bali has some of the most gorgeous coastlines, mountains and jungles anywhere in the world. Couple the island’s natural beauty with a unique, prosaic, artistic and highly stylized culture and aesthetic and what you have is the stuff of touristic dreams.
However, beginning in the 1970s surfers and backpackers began showing up in the southern part of the island around Kuta, an area which quickly began to cater to its western patrons in any way possible.
Kuta’s unchecked growth over the past several decades has formed its present reputation as the island’s drunken, raucous eyesore region which clogs the southern part of the island with black fume-spewing traffic and mountains of garbage which have caused serious issues of water scarcity for the rest of Bali.
Walking along Jalan Legian, Kuta’s main thoroughfare, one sees endless selections of the same awful souvenir shops featuring products seemingly meant for 18 year-old, emotionally infantile males and countless western fast food restaurants.
The charming and iconic traditional architecture of Bali is not to be found; the area rather looks like it could be a city in southern California or anywhere else in the world, really.
From dusk until dawn, humongous, easily-upset drunken louts carouse in the streets with bottles of beer as if on the prowl for someone to maim or kill. Scantily clad women stumble about looking for places to vomit, still working to fulfill their damned dreams of a vacation worth talking about.
In short, Kuta is nowhere near what Bali is traditionally but is exactly what the western tourists who pour into the area want it to be: their home, but cheaper and (they assume) a place where it is easier to get away with morally dubious behavior.
However, it is odd that this is many tourists’ popular image of Bali when Kuta is actually just a small, irritating part of the island.
The rest of Bali is relatively untouched by the degradation that has been inflicted upon its southern extremities. There are still beach towns in Bali that one might suppose are stuck in the 1930s, having one or two small cafes, just a few beach bungalows and miles upon miles of pristine beaches lined with coral.
In central Bali, the (growing) village of Ubud has smartly maintained its traditional Balinese architecture with nary a McDonald’s to be found. The refined and sophisticated Balinese forms of dance, carving and textile design are everywhere to be found, and despite the high amount of tourist buses passing through, one gets the feeling that Ubud will keep its unique flavor for decades to come.
It is odd that such a small island can host such different identities; one as a rowdy, moronic pleasure island for western vacationers and the other as a spiritual and naturalistic oasis of beauty. But Bali presents both.
Hopefully the latter will prevail and Kentucky Fried Chicken and nightclub foam parties will someday be driven from the island for good.