The Bali Arts Festival is a full month of daily performances, handicraft exhibitions and other related cultural and commercial activities during which literally the whole of Bali comes to the city to present its offerings of dance, music and beauty. On display are trances from remote mountain slopes, forgotten or recently revived village dances, food and offering contests, classical palace dances, stars of Balinese stage, odd musical performances, "kreasi baru" (new creations) from the dance schools of Denpasar, as well as contemporary choreography and dance companies from other islands and from abroad.It is a month long revelry that perhaps no other place in the world can put up on such a low budget as the Balinese. Not only is their traditional culture alive and well, but also they have a tremendous pride in it.It begins in the villages, where the seka or cultural groups are selected and organized at the regency level, vie with each other to perform the Arts Festival and thus display in front of a large audience the uniqueness of their village of birth and resting place of their ancestors.The Bali Arts Festival is the Denpasar cultural event of the year; perhaps it would no be too far-fetched to suggest that it is the cultural event of Indonesia. The festival is thus a unique opportunity to see local village culture both "live" and at first hand. Tourists are warmly welcomed.

The History of the Bali Arts Festival
When tourism took off after 1965, the Balinese insisted that it followed cultural guidelines: if tourism was to be accepted, it was to be a cultural tourism, or "pariwisata budaya".
As the Balinese put it: "Tourism should be for Bali instead of Bali for tourism." In time, this idea becomes national policy, as part of a larger revving of regional cultures for national purposes. The policy owes much to the former Director General of Culture (1968-1978) and Governor of Bali (1978-1988), Ida Bagus Mantra, an Indian-educed Balinese. It led, on the one side, to the creation of enclave resorts such as Nusa Dua to limit the direct impact of tourism, and on the other, to a long haul cultural policy aimed at nurturing and preserving the traditional agrarian culture while adapting it to the demands of modernity, and in particular of "cultural tourism".
At the village level, local music groups, dances and other cultural events were inventoried, and then supported by a series of contests at the district and regency level. The ensuing competition energized the cultural life of villages, whose "young blood" was already being drained to the city by the process of economic change and urbanization.
Schools of dance and art were created, in particular the Kokar conservatory and the STSI School of Dance and Music. Beside research, these schools replaced the traditional master/disciple relationship by modern methods of teaching; standardized the dance movements, produced new types of Balinese dances for tourism and modern village entertainment. Most important, it enabled former students to return to the villages as teachers, where they diffused, beside the creed of cultural resilience and renewal, new dances and standardized versions of old ones.
Many of the performances are held at the amphitheater, which can hold up to 6,000 spectators, in a temple-like stage.

Each year, the Bali Arts Festival, beside the fed classical dances of the island, such as the legong, gambuh, kecak, barong, baris, mask dances and the like, is based on the theme around which new "dance choreography" is produced and old village dances and activities revived. Over the years, the whole range of classical Balinese stories - Ramayana, Mahabharata, Sutasoma, Panji - have thus been turned into "colossal" Sendratari Ballets.
The main challenge to the Arts Festival is obviously economic in nature. As village life is increasingly feeling the strains of monetary considerations, dancers, musicians and others cannot be expected to continue participating simply for the sake and the pleasure of it. As costs soar, new sources of financing have to be found. The obvious answer is the private sector and in particular the tourism industry. The greater task then is to convince the hotels, travel agencies and tourist guides to be participatorier in the Arts Festival rather than to their own sponsored events.
Considering the pride the Balinese have in their culture, and the adaptability and dynism they have always demonstrated, this little hurdle can be overcome. Trust the Balinese. They will eventually succeed to transform their tradition into a modern, Balinese culture of their own.

Bali is the perfect place for families. Traveling in Bali with kids, you will found a whole new magical world, as you spent hours watching water flowing in the rice fields, or listening to frogs chirping in the dark, mingled with sounds of the gamelan in the nearby village.
Temples in Bali – Bali has scads of wonderful temples and they are always having festivals. Smaller festivals in the villages have a homey, intimate feel to them. Wearing a sash and sarong is appropriate to enter the temple and part of the fun is dressing in Balinese clothing. Stopping to watch the processions is always exciting too.
A great festival for the splendor and splash, is Kuningan at the Pura Taman Pule in Mas. you have to wait to go inside the temple courtyard, but while you were waiting, you had great conversations with Balinese families standing in line with their kids too.
You can see temple Pura Batukau, off the beaten track on the edges of the mountains high above the lowlands. Few tourists go to Batukau (the roads are pretty bumpy), but it is a large, temple complex with an artificial lake and island in the middle, and is surrounded by dense, dark green jungle.
Fun Food
At any roadside stall (warung), stop in for peanuts, pisang susu (milk bananas), crackers and bottled water or soft drinks. There are also delicious tropical ice tea, milkshakes, lassi (yogurt fruit shakes) and coconut ice cream in the restaurants. (Adults, if you are a coffee drinker, Balinese coffee is excellent. Drink it at a warung in Balinese style, a glass filled with finely ground coffee that sinks to the bottom, with or without milk and plenty of sugar).
Shopping
Bali is full of wonderful things to shop for souvenirs – fans, sarongs, sashes, carved wooden owls, frogs, ducks, kites, musical instruments such as bamboo flues, drums and gangsa (small xylophones), toy outriggers, and CDs of Balinese music. Kids will have a great time picking out their own treasures to take back home.
We can't say enough about the beauty and culture of Bali, and you and your kids will want to experience both. Biking through the rice fields, rafting on the rivers, snorkeling in sparkling waters, combined with mountain temples and dance performances is unforgettable for everyone. Book a tour that specializes in multi-sport trips for families, they'll provide everything you'll need to explore this dazzling landscape.

Surfing has been the number one water sport attraction for many years since the days of the hippy travelers of the sixties and seventies. Many people have been attracted to come to Bali because it offers many great surfing spots and it is now one of the top surf level destinations in the world. Bali is ideal for both "hard core" surfers, who are keen to ride huge waves that are equal to the best as well as beach goers who are content just to float in the warm waters.
As surfing has involved from an alternative lifestyle into the huge commercial proposition, so Bali has gone along for the ride. It is now possible to arrive on the island and fully deck yourself out in quality surf gear from a range of well-known surf wear companies, which are spread along Sanur, Legian and Kuta.
Truly the surfer's paradise, Bali has the range of surfing conditions and options that make it an ideal place to test your skills or try it out for the first time. However, watch out, once you catch the thrill of skimming down of wave and "carving it up". You will soon discover how addictive surfing in Bali can be.

For 10 days between Galungan and Kuningan days, Balinese Hindus will be celebrating the victory of good over evil. These celebrations are the most important in the Pakuwon calendar.
This time of year is a chance to see this beautiful island at its prettiest. All house compounds and entrance gates are decorated with Penjor, the long, over-hanging bamboo poles decorated with elaborate creations carved and woven from leaves and natural fibers. Schools close and commerce ceases, as attention focuses solely on the devotional activities associated with this special holiday.
During Galungan, it is believed that the deified ancestors of the family descend to their former homes where they must be entertained and given offerings. Offerings are also made at the gravesides of those awaiting cremation and their final release into the world of spirits.
The days before Galungan is called Penyekeban day, the day on which to cover up fermented cakes. Green bananas are sealed in large clay pots and covered with coconut husk in order to ripen them quickly: huge quantities of bananas are required for Galungan offerings.
Likewise, Penyajaan day, which devoted to making many coloured cakes of fried rice dough. These are much loved by the Balinese and are used as offerings in numerous ceremonies. Mountains of these cakes can be seen in markets, as a busy housewife will often not have time to make them herself.
A day before Galungan is called Penampahan day, when many pigs are slaughtered for the traditional Galungan morning feast. An essential feature of the menu is the traditional lawar, a spicey hash made of finely chopped pork and dozens of spices. Five different conds of hash are prepared to make dozens of sticks of the traditional Balinese satay.
The following day of Galungan is Umanis Galungan, when the devotional duties and feasting are over and families take to the road to visit families and friends and really get into the holiday spirit. It's a great time to be in Bali!

Traditional architecture in Bali originates from two sources. One is the great Hindu tradition brought to Bali from India via Java. The second is an indigenous architecture pre-dating the Hindu epic and in many ways reminiscent of Polynesian building. Even the Balinese temple, it has been noted, is surrounded by a stonewall dividing its sacred precincts from the village very much like Hawaiian and Tahitian places of worship.
Balinese temples are divided into three parts; one inevitably passes through a split gate or Candi Bentar to enter the first courtyard. Then a second gate rising high with the grinning face of a guardian demon leads to the second division. Inside there are numerous pavilions used for various purposes. In the final courtyard one may find the meru pagoda which may have as many as eleven roofs if the owner or temple is important enough. The black thatch is from the sugar palm and can only be used in temples. There will also stand numerous sanggah or spirit houses and pedestals, which will be full of offerings on ritual days. Everywhere carving in brick, volcanic stone and wood will be apparent. Walls ring all. The Balinese have always spent a great deal of energy and money on their temples for it is the duty to repay the ancestors for the prosperity.
Balinese royalty has always felt it imperative that they demonstrate their prosperity and standing by building magnificent palaces. The carved wooden doors of these palaces are especially famous for their beauty. The teak doors of the main palace of Denpasar were so large that they required forty porters to carry them. In the palaces bright colors and gold leaf abound for the display of opulence in even the smallest and most insignificant of details is deemed proof of nobility. Unlike Europe, Balinese palaces are not single huge buildings but rather a collection of numerous structures each with a special function such as the bale gede, an open pavilion of 12 columns, where the oldest male of the family sleeps. During important ceremonies like tooth filing this will serve a place to commune with the ancestors and gods who descend from heavens to partake of the many offerings placed on the beds. As in the temple the four directions of the Balinese compass are critical in determining the lay-out and positioning of buildings. There is a developed Balinese science of geomancy written in the ancient palm leaf manuscripts. This is known as Kosala-kosali. Through it we can determine the best place to locate a kitchen for instance. Oftentimes when a family is suffering bad luck or misfortune, the first place the balian or witch doctor will look for is any unwitting violations of the Balinese laws of building. The science of building is held to be a sacred knowledge and traditional Balinese architects who might also be rice farmers were known by the distinguished title of undagi.
Another large and important structure is the wantilan or so called cock-fighting arena. It is called this because at one time cockfights were frequently held here. It is found near the palace and central market in every traditional village. Nearby stands a kulkul or slit drum tower to call the members of the village together for meetings. The wantilan is also commonly used for performances. Once built entirely of wood most are made of re-enforced concrete today. The traditional wantilan has also inspired the shapes and forms of many hotels and houses as the Amandari.

Using such natural materials as thatch roofing, bamboo poles, woven bamboo, coconut wood, mud and stone they are organic statements in complete harmony with the environment. Many of these are temporary such as the offering houses set up before harvest in the rice fields. Others use trees that will actually keep on growing as the bamboo rots and returns to the mother earth. The Balinese have always been particularly adept using the bamboo and behind every Balinese house one can find at least one stand of bamboo.
The introduction of cement and other modern materials and the rapid growth of hotels, galleries and new homes have produced mixed results. The opulence and ornamentation of many new hotels are often breath taking. Nowhere else in the world would such woodcarvings and stonework be possible. Still the line between kitsch and a good taste is narrow and too often people have failed to appreciate the essence of Balinese architecture that in many cases has become an amazing parody of it. One hopes that in the future more attention will be paid to resorts like the Amandari and Four Seasons Resort in Jimbaran, who have modified traditional Balinese architecture without tainting its integrity.
For those truly interested in Balinese architecture, a visit to the Bali Museum in Denpasar is a must. There you will not only find many old traditional buildings but also information as to the local styles, of which there are many. Also if you would like to take a piece of tradition back with you there are numerous traditional rice barns, the original knock down building, available for sale for extremely reasonable prices.

Romantic Westerners once sold Balinese culture to the globe. Now locals wonder if their island is becoming a giant theme park
© By Keith Loveard

BIG MACS IN THE macrobiotic hills of Ubud? West Bali National Park handed over to a timber magnate for eco-tourism? Similar rumors of development doom have been flying on Indonesia's fabled island ever since the 1930s, when it was first marketed to the world as paradise on earth. True or not, the latest whispers making the rounds point to an increasingly gnawing worry. More and more Balinese are asking: Is our home being turned into a giant theme park?
Nothing perhaps has stoked fears more that Bali is being Disneyfied than the 40-story (140-meter) statue of the mythical Garuda bird that sculptor I Nyoman Nuarta is creating across from the international airport. Once it is completed in a couple of years, you can be sure tourist brochures will describe it as "The Largest in the World!"

The Garuda statue symbolizes a growing divide on the island. Some see the big bird as an apt metaphor for modern Bali. Governor Ida Bagus Oka, for example, compares it favorably to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Others, like environmentalist I Made Suarnatha, see the statue as a crass tourist attraction that will cheapen Bali's heritage and send the message that anything goes. "The people of Bali are shocked by the image this will present," says Suarnatha. "But as with all these projects, developers and officials refuse to discuss it. I am tired of trying to talk when the other side doesn't want to."

A recent history of Bali might well be called The Paradise Paradox. Here we have an Asian culture that was sold to the world by Western romantics, a Hindu island in a mostly Muslim archipelago, a tourist destination that is at once commercial and deeply spiritual. While other famous tropical idylls have succumbed to jet-loads of fun-seekers, Bali culture has proved itself remarkably resilient. Nor have the people utterly lost out to the powerful business elites from the neighboring island of Java. Nonetheless, with the government planning to divide the island into 21 tourist zones, locals and tourists alike are wondering yet again whether Bali's photogenic dances and festivals, beaches and rice terraces can survive intact.

Make no mistake, Bali faces serious environmental problems. In the capital Denpasar, drinking water dwindles to a trickle during the day, owing, say conservationists, to the unquenchable thirst of Nusa Dua, the elite resort. The hotel industry's demand for electricity has pushed forward plans for a controversial geothermal power station at Bedugul, a sacred mountain lake. Nor are the beaches immune to the build-it-and-they-will-come philosophy. Sand dredging off the port of Benoa to enlarge an island for yet more hotels has altered the water currents; they are now eating away at the beaches in the old resort area of Sanur. Such developments are supposed to be accompanied by an environmental impact study guaranteeing that the projects are sustainable. "These studies are no more than procedure," says environmentalist Yuyun Ilham. "It doesn't matter how they implement the project. As long as they have the document, it's fine."

There is no debate about the debacle at Candi Dasa, a development on the east coast. Limestone from offshore reefs was used to build the hotels. Oops. With the reefs ground down, the resort beach was left open to the waves. Rather than see their inns slip into the sea, the owners ordered a series of water-breaks that march along the beach like ragged dinosaur teeth. "That was the Balinese people being stupid," says Oka, referring to the development. He denies any current projects are ecologically unsound. "The people are aware that the culture, the people, the beaches are their natural wealth. There is no way they would destroy their environment, though in some cases they may not understand the effects of what they want to do."

In fact, Balinese talk far less about ruined beaches and feeble water pressure than they do about destruction of their way of life, how their culture is being mass-marketed to the world. The government constantly urges the people to smile and make their traditional ceremonies extra lavish to please the visitors, so much so that many communities have run up hefty debts trying to outdo the neighbors. But while they endure modern rituals thrust upon them by a government eager for foreign exchange, the Balinese, as in other famous vacation spots, have a tendency to blame the tourists. Anak Agung Oka is typical in this regard. Agung, 33, is in charge of the community's adat, traditional laws that cover everything from land ownership to relationships. He lives in a village in Legian, now a northerly extension of the tourist tack of Kuta. When skimpily attired tourists venture into town, Agung feels like telling them "not to kill my tradition."

In 1993, Indonesia's Bakrie group unveiled plans to build a resort and golf course at Tanah Lot. Some locals expressed horror that they would be able to see the complex from the nearby temple, one of the holiest on Bali. In a virtually unprecedented display of disenchantment, Hindu priests organized protests. In the end a compromise was worked out. Bakrie moved the hotel back a few hundred meters, though temple-goers can still spy tourists teeing off.

The small victory has been hailed by activists who see in it the seeds of a revolt against the evils of unplanned tourism that is wrecking the environment and undermining Bali's vaunted culture. But the temple protest may have had less to do with religion than jealousy – namely that outsiders (in this case a Jakarta) were making money at the expense of locals. Long before the resort opened, the path to the holy site was lined with ramshackle shops selling souvenirs to tourists watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean. A double standard? Governor Oka says he asked the same thing. "If this is a protest against outsiders," he asks, "what happens if people outside don't like us?"

The governor has a point. Even Balinese who bemoan the paving of their island acknowledge that they have done handsomely by the planeloads of free-spending tourists. Last year, according to official figures, there were 1.16 million direct arrivals, a big advance on the 738,533 who visited four years earlier. That does not take into account the extra one-million-plus foreigners who don't fly direct, not to mention the weekenders from Java. Whatever the exact figures, Bali's economy is moving far faster than the rest of the country. Balinese proudly buzz around on motor scooters. They rarely have to look far for work. And many are downright enthusiastic about tourism.

Priests happily marry non-Hindus such as Mick Jagger and Jerry Hall for cash. Get-rich-quick artists are willing to overlook the adat laws to sell off ancestral land for big bucks. One Balinese entrepreneur runs two hotels, a restaurant and two discos, where locals and tourists alike pop ecstasy to improve their view of paradise. He is making so much cash; his neighbors speculate that Bali has become a money-laundering hub for drug barons. Balinese are increasingly savvy when it comes to their birthright: most developments are on land that is leased for 30 years. Hence, the hotels, restaurants and homes that smother much of southern Bali will revert to the Balinese.

That has not stopped the griping, of course. Balinese say the Javanese are scooping most of the tourism profits – and that the Jakarta establishment, including the children of President Suharto, are more interested in "ego-tourism" than in prudent investments; so many hotels are being built that room-price wars erupt from time to time at five-star inns. There are also complaints that developers cheat landowners. Those who refuse to sell at low prices risk having their homes demolished by bulldozers; that is what allegedly happened this year at the Pecatu project of Suharto son Hutomo Mandala Putera. All that aside, compared to their neighbors on Lombok, where foreign and Jakarta investors have mostly shoved the Sasak people out of the tourist game, Balinese are doing well.

In 1937, Miguel Covarrubias wrote the seminal work Island of Bali. In it the Mexican author reckoned that the isle was "doomed to disappear under the merciless onslaught of modern commercialism and standardization." Years later, the American anthropologist Margaret Mead came too much the same conclusion. Today's jet-fresh tourists might well, too. In Kuta, confused, sunburned visitors are hassled by day by sellers of cold drinks, copy watches and sunglasses and by night by touts pushing sex and drugs. Here Japanese and Australian girls can find instant romances with bronzed gigolos. In Ubud, tourists buy batik hangings that are rolled out like so much wallpaper. In fact, if tourists have any interest at all in Balinese culture, it is usually limited to buying mass-market folk art or attending a dance show, often at their hotel. Kids, bored with the thought of visiting yet another temple, want theme parks and water slides, such as the Kuta Water Bom park.

Even well heeled Balinese would rather hang out at Kuta's Hard Rock Cafe than watch a classical legong dance. "There is a very serious middle class here with money to spend," says Stuart, an Australian who has made a good living from the tourist trade for the past 10 years. "Jakarta has its Taman Mini theme park. So why shouldn't Bali have its own? These are diversions, whether you're talking about parks or prostitutes. It's what comes with money."

And yet, amid the hungry commercial rush of Kuta's strip, each day young Balinese women place floral offerings to the gods in front of every doorway. On the sacred day of Nyepi, the entire island shuts down. On lesser feast days, some devoted to such quaint chores as blessing steel, wood and other materials, processions of brightly clad women and men in their Hindu whites take to the streets, delighting foreign onlookers. Sitting by the lotus pond in his garden, Agung says adat remains a big force in the lives of ordinary folk. "Youngsters might experiment a little with Western lifestyles," he says. "But the sanctions of the community are strong enough that they quickly get pulled back in line. The ritual drum that summons people for ceremonies still has a strong charisma."

In a place where most people will tell you that adat and religion come first in the scale of priorities, followed by family and, only then, business, clearly some kind of culture endures. The problem, says local anthropologist Degung Santikarma, is how to define what it is. We are asking, "What is authentic?" he says. "But no one wants to listen. What we have is something fluid." In the meantime, he dismisses foreigners – "these romantic junkies from the West" – who stay a month or 12 and start telling the Balinese how to rescue their culture.

Of course, it was foreigners who helped to create much of the Bali that the world knows today. Before the colonial period, the Balinese were better known for frequent internecine wars and a thriving slave trade than for an enlightened culture. A handful of foreigners who lived on the island between the two world wars helped shape Bali's reputation as a cultural destination. The places they chose to settle & dash Kuta, Ubud, and Sanur – became the focal nodes of modern tourism. Even as they disseminated images of the so-called last paradise – best exemplified by the bare-breasted Balinese beauty – these early residents encouraged art forms that might well have died out otherwise. "From the 1930s there was the appearance of imitation arts," says Prof. I Made Bandem, head of the Indonesian Institute of Arts at Denpasar. "Ritual forms were turned into mass art and sold to the tourists. This served to preserve them from extinction."

One of the most influential foreign residents was Walter Spies, a German painter and musician. He moved to Ubud, encouraged other artists and writers to settle in Bali, and did much to sow the seeds of artistic development in painting, sculpture and dance. When Ronald Reagan visited Bali in 1986, according to American ethnologist Edward M. Bruner, the then U.S. president was shown a kecak dance performance. The choreographer? None other than Walter Spies, who put together the routine with a Balinese troupe back in the 1930s.
When Made Yudha was growing up, his village in the Legian region was nothing but rice fields. Today they have for the most part been swallowed up by the hotels, lodges, restaurants, bars and shops that thrust for 10 kilometers north from Ngurah Rai airport through Kuta. "Development has been too fast," says Made, 35, who now oversee environmental affairs for the village association. "Maybe the government has handed out too many development licenses."
The governor, of course, believes different. Oka says that the 21 tourist zones are part of a master plan that involved discussions with all the affected communities. Each zone, he vows, will be developed to meet the individual needs of the area. Few Balinese believe it. "The government seems intent on pursuing mass tourism," says Suarnatha. "We could be looking for quality tourism, with lower numbers but more lasting value. Now the Bali government is saying every area of the island has to have a resort development. It's crazy."

Crazy or not, the Balinese are making money out of tourism in a style that their compatriots elsewhere in Indonesia can only envy. The changes continuing to press on the island may not suit romantics, and many Balinese admit they worry about what it will mean for their future. "We are not completely content," the governor acknowledges. "The people of Bali have to be aware that with all the changes we have seen, we now have to make corrections and learn to work efficiently. We know that what we enjoy now is our heritage, and we have to give it back to our children and grandchildren in a form they too can enjoy and use."
For the past century, Bali has endured dramatic change. But for every tourist who complains that the real Bali is dead, there is another who is impressed by the island's cultural individuality. Motorbikes and cars are now part of the Balinese legacy – and their owners take them to the temple for an annual blessing. In the midst of so much change, ritual lives on. Only the Gods of Bali can know how real it all is.

Keith Loveard is an Asia week senior correspondent based in Jakarta