As my plane from Yogyakarta began its final descent into Denpasar, the captain came on the loudspeaker and, after saying some mostly unintelligible things, probably about the weather, said clearly, "Welcome to paradise." As I exited the terminal and made my way to the taxi stand, I could tell he was right. The sky was blue, the air was clear, and I was surrounded by palm and banana trees. Bali is a lush, tropical paradise if there ever was one.
As my taxi and I sped down the road (and as with most Asian taxi drivers, when I say "sped", I mean it quite literally) towards the coastal town of Candi Dasa where I had decided to spend my first few days on the island, I couldn't help but return to that word: paradise.
To the Western among us, paradise evokes images of the landscape as well as lazy days lounging with friends and family. It is short on conveniences, but long on necessities like clean air, cool water, fresh food, and laughter and love. The good life, you know. We might not have a lot, but we have this. (Of course, it's even better when on holiday we get all that plus aircon, cheap rates, and friendly service to boot.)
So, we bemoan what I call the scourge of Asian cities: the motorbike. Because there is nothing quite so nasty as the sound and smell of a few thousand two-stroke engines buzzing in and out of the increasing traffic of a crowded, serpentine old alleyway in a crowded, dirty around the edges city.
And there's that, too. The garbage littering the pavement and the roadway. Plastic bags blown hither and yon on the breeze, caught up in the weeds choking the edges of various vacant lots and stream banks. Candy wrappers, empty chip bags, bottle caps, and cigarette butts, too.
Don't they realize they're ruining it for the rest of us? What about trash bags and unleaded gasoline and hybrid engines. Why destroy the beauty of the landscape with petroleum-derived synthetics? They are so 1950.
And that's just it, really. We come to paradise from our nicely insulated homes (and that my apartment in Beijing is NOT well insulated is a never-ending source of consternation for me), complete with hot and cold running water, electricity, cable, and high-speed Internet. We come from our high-paying jobs (at least if we are traveling to paradise, you can bet we or our parents make at least more than a living wage), with our well-maintained cars, central heating, and flat-screen TVs. Sure, we never seem to have enough time to enjoy them, but what the hell. We have enough to come here.
On their semester final, I had my students read a passage about the culture of Guinea. In it, the Peace Corps Volunteer talked about the importance of people in his adopted home (always asking at least five questions, always saying hello, always shaking hands, valuing friendship above work responsibilities). My students were immediately taken with the idea. They wanted to live there until I pointed out that cultures like that usually come with endlessly mind-numbing jobs, poverty, and a plentiful dearth of gadgets and accessories. Then they decided they'd stick with the high-achieving, high-powered path their parents have envisioned for them.
Earlier this year, when I was in Xinjiang, my friends and I talked around this issue, too. There we were in a place without McDonald's or Starbucks, where even the government acknowledges that there is a lack of economic opportunity. And yet, especially in the Muslim areas, people seemed pretty happy. They liked living in their ancient homes (to the extent that they still lived there, even though the Party wants them out and the places are literally crumbling back into mud) with their families. And really, who were we to say that our lives were so much better, just because I (used to) have a Cuisinart and a Kitchen-Aid?
But by the same token, who am I to insist that just because someone doesn't have access to a Kitchen-Aid (or the steady electricity to run it), that they shouldn't want one, or have one. And why shouldn't they buy motorbikes to get from point A to point B in a timely manner? And like in China, why shouldn't they want to transition from bicycles and mopeds to cars?
Really, I didn't row a boat from Beijing to Bali. I hopped on an airplane. They just want their paradise with a dashboard light.
- Do you really care this was posted using BlogPress from my iPad?
Location:Bali, Indonesia
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