Phnom Penh - Day 1

It feels very strange that being in Phnom Penh does not feel strange.  As a kid, I knew it as the scariest place on earth.  It was the home of the "The Killing Fields" and the horrific brutality of the Khmer Rouge.  To have come here then would have meant certain death.

So it feels surreal now to be dining at a fancy restaurant in Phnom Penh, serenaded by a musician playing a traditional Cambodian stringed instrument, overlooked by a huge photo of Gordon Ramsay hugging the restaurant's chef.

On the surface, Phnom Penh does not appear that different than Chiang Mai or Laos.  There is a similar buzzing of motorbikes carrying every configuration of people and goods.  The streets are lined with small, ramshackle family stores, their wares spilling out onto the sidewalk.  Similar stores congregate together, so after a stretch of stores selling mainly tires comes a batch of stores selling ceramic tiles, followed by furniture stores, succeeded by blocks of garages with engine blocks and car chassis lining the streets.

But there are still reminders of a past that was less welcoming of Westerners.  The road from the Airport to the center of town is Russian Federation Boulevard.  The way from our hotel to the main market, still known as the Russian Market, passes along Mao Tse Toung Street.

We also know that there must be countless other reminders of the past, invisible to us, carried as painful memories within all the Cambodians we see busily engaged in their daily routines.  Knowing the history we can't but wonder what tragedy befell the family of each person we meet.

We arrived at a moment of national reflection on Cambodia's turbulent and tragic past due to the death a few days earlier of the "King Father", 89-year-old King Sihanouk.  Reading news articles about his death I learned that Sihanouk became king at age 18 in 1941 when Cambodia was still under French rule.  He was a key player in Cambodia's destiny for nearly all of the succeeding 70 years.  He led Cambodia to independence, helped it survive the Vietnam War, was ousted by a rival prince, supported the rise of the Khmer Rouge in an attempt to regain his throne, became deeply depressed at their atrocities, and many years later helped broker the truce that allowed Cambodia to return to relative calm.

Large portraits of the king wreathed in flowers are prominently displayed throughout Phnom Penh.  Many of the people we see on the streets are wearing white shirts with a black ribbon affixed to the front as a sign of mourning.  We learned that hundreds of thousands lined the streets to watch the procession bearing his body to the royal palace.  The Phnom Penh Post, the local English language paper, reported that many Cambodians were convinced that they could see the image of the "King Father" in the moon.  As Americans we probably don't have a figure that would be equivalent to King Sihanouk.  To someone from England the passing of Queen Elizabeth II might evoke similar feelings, though likely not as intense nor as conflicted.

Memorial to King Sihanouk at the National Museum

We flew out of Bali on Friday afternoon, after attending parent teacher conferences at Green School in the morning before the school went on a weeklong break.  Due to flight schedules we had to spend an overnight in Kuala Lumpur (KL), as our flight from Bali arrived too late to connect with the flights to Phnom Penh that only leave earlier in the day.  

This allowed us to hop a bus and then a fast-train from the airport to the center of KL where we stayed overnight in the Hilton.  It also allowed us to reconnect at brunch the next morning with friends from D.C. whom we had not seen for several years and who are now living in KL.  They have three daughters, one of whom was in Alexa's class for the three years at Aidan Montessori and another of whom is a little younger than Charlotte.  The girls immediately picked up where they left off which was a great treat for them.

Then it was a taxi back to the airport, through the security lines again, and two more hours of the girls on the iPad before we landed in Phnom Penh.

Entry to Cambodia required visas on demand, processed by a counter full of uniformed men and women awaiting us as we entered the terminal.  $20 US per visa plus $2 if you don't have a passport sized photo.  I had some US dollars on me but not quite the $88 required.  I head to the one ATM in the room to pick up some of the local currency, Cambodian Riels, only to have the ATM spit out fresh Ben Franklins.  It's the first time since we left the U.S. that an ATM delivered US Currency.  It was disorienting to be freshly landed in Phnom Penh facing a room full of uniformed Cambodian officers, feeling further away from the US than ever, and to be staring down at familiar US currency in the ATM tray.

Freshly replenished we head to the visa counter where we are told by an officer that visas for the girls are only $5 each to be paid directly to the officer, while Lynn's and my visa are $20 each to be paid to the cashier.  Suspicious but not arguing we pay the man, pay the cashier, collect all four passports that now include visas and head to immigration control.  There, for the first time in our travels in SE Asia, Lynn and I have our fingerprints scanned - four fingers on the right hand, thumb of right hand, four fingers of left hand, thumb of left hand - entry to Cambodia granted.

A quick stop at one of the mobile network booths lining the pathway and I walk away with a new SIM card for my cell phone.  For $8 US I now have Cambodian cell phone number and a high speed unlimited data plan.  I'm checking my work email as I head to the exit.

It took me a long time to get used to how cell phones work in South East Asia.  It's all a la carte.  You can buy a phone from one store, a SIM card that provides you a phone number from another store, and add minutes at a countless number of small stores and kiosks.  Internet access is offered a month at a time.  It's completely different from the US model with its all-in-one package of phone, mobile number, calling plan and data plan locking you in for two years with one company.  Here is South East Asia, you go to a new country, swap out your SIM card, and you are up and running with your existing phone on the mobile network of the new country in less than five minutes.

The drive from the airport into the center of Phnom Penh gave us our first glimpse of Cambodia.  It was of dusty streets filled with motorbikes and small trucks.

We were glad when our taxi finally pulled up at a gleaming white building that contrasted with the rest of the gritty, somewhat run-down block.  The interior of the boutique hotel was just as charming as the exterior.  Our wood trimmed, tiled, mini-suite was large enough for two small beds for the girls.

We took a tuk-tuk to a touristy restaurant overlooking the central river for dinner.  Charlotte spent much of the evening drawing a picture of the dancers and musician that were performing for the diners.  Then to their amusement she gave them a gift of her drawing.

We arranged with our tuk-tuk driver to pick us up after dinner for the ride back to our hotel.

Driving around Phnom Penh in a tuk-tuk puts you in the midst of a swirling chaos.  Driving is a more communal activity than it is in D.C.  People aren't isolated inside the pod of their enclosed car.  We are in an open air tuk-tuk swarmed on all sides by motorbikes passing inches away.  The entire population rides on motorbikes so multi-generational families would pull up right next to us and we'd exchange nods and smiles before pulling apart.  There's an absence of traffic lights so when busy main streets cross everyone dives into the intersection, horns blaring, and by slithering into the tiniest of gaps somehow makes it across to the other side without producing total gridlock.  In spite of all the noise and commotion, Charlotte was fast asleep before the tuk-tuk returned to our hotel.  

one of the quieter streets in Phnom Penh

The next morning we headed to the largest market in Phnom Penh, the Russian market.  It was similar to other markets we'd seen in SE Asia, but these markets are never boring.  The food section is intense.  

An elderly couple did a steady business selling small live crabs that they kept in a large bowl.  The crabs kept climbing out of the bowl.  It required the couple's constant attention to keep catching the crabs and plopping them back into the bowl.  I imagine they spent years engaged in this Sisyphean task.

the crab minders

Live fish wriggle on trays next to their cousins who have already been cut in half.  Dead chickens are stacked in rows to be severed by a cleaver at the request of a customer.  Butcher stalls display their wares hanging from meat hooks while a man minces a slab of meat with a cleaver.  One room is filled with food stalls, the stall owners bathed in perpetual heat and steam as they boil up large pots of soup for their customers.  

mincing meat

fish seller

arrangement in dried fish

egg varieties

butcher stand

hair salon next to food stalls

Further on are the stalls filled with clothes and shoes, handicrafts and jewelry.  While Lynn goes shopping with the girls, my attention is captured by a stack of old, oversized bank notes from an earlier stage in Cambodia's history.  The shop owner pulls out an envelope with her more precious  holdings - currency issued by the Banque d'Indochine when Cambodia was under French rule and a few notes of 'Pol Pot' money, printed by the Khmer Rouge but never distributed since they soon after abolished currency.  She claims they are quite valuable.  I try to confirm by taking advantage of the Internet connection on my phone to do some quick Google searches, but draw a blank.  I pay her half what she asks, and wonder if I have secured some rare items at a bargain price.  When we return to our hotel room I finally locate examples of the currency I bought on eBay, listed for a fifth of the seller's asking price.  I have to be content with having overpaid for some historical curiosities.  You can't out-bargain a shop owner in the Russian Market!

good shopping in the market

Indochinese and Khmer Rouge bank notes

We spend the afternoon at the National Museum wandering among thousand year old sculptures and carvings from Angkor and other archeological sites.  It whetted our appetite for our time in Angkor Wat.

sculpture at the National Museum 

Charlotte feeding the fish at the National Museum; in the background are people wearing white shirts and black ribbons as a sign of mourning 

Charlotte encounters a child monk

Cambodian group visiting the museum

Then to dinner under the benevolent gaze of Mr. Ramsay and Charlotte falling asleep again on the tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel.

Photos by Nat, Lynn and Alexa

Ubud Monkey Forest (Finally!)

After eight months in Bali, today marked our first excursion as a family into the fabled Monkey Forest, the top tourist attraction in Ubud.  (Nat and his buddy Andy visited a couple of months ago.)

The monkeys (macaques, actually) are well known for being aggressive and ornery at times.  They will jump on visitors especially if the visitors aren't quick enough in giving up the bananas that are sold at the entrance.  Alexa had a friend from school who was nipped by one of the monkeys.  Fear of getting bitten by a monkey with an unknown disease had kept us away this long.  Alexa was a nervous wreck.  Charlotte absorbed some of Alexa's nervousness but was more game to take a look around.

We found the monkeys in a relatively mellow, easygoing frame of mind on this Sunday afternoon.  Dewa told us they are often more aggressive toward visitors in the morning when they are hungry.  Some of them even turned away offers of food.  Many wandered by us showing no interest in our doings.  Occasionally we heard the screeches of a band of males as they horsed around, much like adolescent males of other species.

The Monkey Forest itself is strikingly beautiful.  It has an enormous banyan tree, several temples, and many unusual statues.  In the middle of the park, you cross a bridge over a deep gorge that passes through the dangling roots of the banyan tree.

giant lizard statues

Life in Ubud would be incomplete without a visit to the Monkey Forest, so we're glad we finally made it.  Alexa is glad we made it out.

Date:  Sep 30th

Posted by Lynn; photos by Lynn & Nat.

Spontaneous September Doings

Ubud is fertile territory for taking an idea and running with it.  So many of the events that we attend occur with a minimum of advance planning.  This spontaneity is one of the great joys of living in Bali.

Alexa was Athena in her 5th grade's production of the Iliad done in "valley-girl" style.  It was a lot of fun and very impressive for being produced from start to finish in one week.

We attended a dinner event that was arranged at the last minute.  A Michelin-rated chef from Europe was persuaded to interrupt his vacation to prepare a "slow food" meal using only the ingredients grown at one of the local eco-friendly hotels.  It gave him a chance for his first hands-on slaughter of a pig.

Alexa is ready for "crazy hair" day at Green School

Charlotte at her good friend's birthday party.  The parents of the birthday girl are building a boutique hotel next door.  They had the swimming pool ready just in time for the birthday party.

Alexa was brave enough to join in the soccer game on the road to our house, even though it was an all-boys match.  Then Charlotte joined in too.  The boys were good sports, found it amusing, and gave the girls plenty of opportunities with the ball.

Lynn has arranged for the whole family to take tennis lessons on a more or less weekly basis.  In the village where we play, somewhat incongruously, the tennis court is adjacent to two primary schools and just steps away from a temple.  This ensures that we have a gallery of school kids in their matching uniforms shouting "hello!" and laughing at our mis-hits.  After our lesson on Sunday, Dewa mentioned that a cock fight was taking place at the temple, so I wandered over with him to take a look.  Though cock fights occur regularly temple ceremonies, it was still a startling juxtaposition to have an elaborate temple ceremony taking place side-by-side with a cock fight.   I felt quite out of place wearing my sweaty tennis clothes.

Later that afternoon we went to a fund-raiser organized by Green School parents to help a local Balinese boy with his cancer treatments.  The event was held at the Linda Garland estate, one of the largest in the Ubud area.  Its sprawling grounds and bamboo buildings (which were the inspiration for John Hardy's bamboo building efforts) are nestled in a gorgeous setting overlooking a stream below. It was a last hurrah for the estate, which has just been sold, though not to Richard Branson as it had long been rumored.

Posted by Nat; photos by Nat & Lynn.

Small Things

After the better part of a year in Bali we've largely grown accustomed to things here, in big ways and small.

There are big things we love here and small annoyances that we'll be glad to leave behind.  Yet it may be the small things that we'll miss most when we return:

-- leaving our shoes on the front steps and walking into friends' homes and restaurants barefoot;

entrance to Clear Cafe

-- getting in the habit of placing ones' palms together over one's chest as a greeting and touching one's hand to one's heart after shaking hands with a new acquaintance;

-- enjoying all our meals in the open air;

-- sharing our home with geckos and other assorted creatures, and hearing the loud calls of the geckos at night.  Eating at nice restaurants that have dozens of small geckos hanging out on the interior walls;

in our bedroom the other night

-- daily offerings placed around around the house and yard;

-- meeting a complete stranger and yet knowing that his or her name will likely be Wayan, Made, Nyoman or Ketut, and then suppressing a little smile when your new acquaintance announces that his or her name is indeed Wayan, Made, Nyoman or Ketut;

-- paying for nearly everything in cash and watching waiters count out your payment right in front of you at the table;

-- having Alexa and Charlotte refer to all the grown-ups in their life here as either Ibu (for women) or Pak (for men), for example their teachers Ibu Mona and Pak Shaun;

-- drinking lots of Pocari Sweat, the baffling name of the most popular sports drink;

-- being able to hop onto a motorbike for short trips on small streets where the traffic hums along at a manageable speed;

-- making social plans on the spur of the moment, with dinners, sleep-overs and even overnight trips happening spontaneously;

--  being continuously amazed at what people manage to transport on a motorcycle and the number of kids that can fit on one motorbike;

--  having complete strangers ask you detailed questions about your personal life and your plans for the day, and having them be perfectly happy to answer your personal questions in return;

-- having a next door neighbor who scales palm trees to chop down coconuts (which we buy for the equivalent of $1 and enjoy fresh coconut water) and who sits by the side of the road massaging his fighting rooster;

Dewa Putra cutting down coconuts

-- the joyous sounds of the marimba band at Green School;

-- learning why on certain nights of the month it is dangerous to go outside due to the presence of bad spirits and evil sorcerers from someone who genuinely believes in the existence of bad spirits and evil sorcerers;

-- spending our days close to the ground, rarely if ever climbing up a flight of stairs;

-- receiving a delivery from the deli with the cream cheese and other goodies wrapped in a little banana leaf pouch held together with tiny toothpick-sized twigs.

delivery container from Bali Buddha

Betwixt and Between

As I start to contemplate returning to the U.S., I have mixed feelings about leaving Bali.

We are having a wonderful year here.  So rich, so full of new adventures, new places, new friends, a new way of living.  It has been an exhilarating change from our routine back in DC.

We just returned from an afternoon playing in the surf on a huge beach, where we were joined by a classmate of Alexa's and the classmate's mom.  Alexa went home with them to a sleep-over, and then Lynn, Charlotte and I had dinner at a fabulous restaurant overlooking the beach where we watched the sun set over the ocean.  Then we relaxed in the car as our driver drove us the hour or so back home.  This is a typical weekend day in Bali.  It won't be the same back in DC.

Many of the Green School families who started when we did, with the expectation of staying six-months to a year, have found that they love life in Bali and have decided to commit long-term.  They are selling their homes abroad, signing long-term leases, or even buying land and starting to build, and looking for a way to be productive and earn a living here in Bali.

Staying in Bali long-term is a real option for us as well.  But I don't feel ready to make that plunge.  It makes me wonder why so many of our friends here see Bali as a wonderful place to live and full of so many opportunities, and what is holding me back from seeing it the same way.

It may be that I haven't put down enough roots here yet.  Partly it may be because I am often busy with work, spending all day at home on the computer, some days not venturing outside the house. Partly it may be that I still feel like a visitor here, a tourist, knowing that I will never be a part of Balinese culture, nor do I want to be a Balinese Hindu.  Partly it may be that I haven't made strong friends with the other expats here.  Largely thanks to Lynn we have a large social network here of simpatico people that we like a lot.  But in part due to work, and in part because I knew we were heading back, and also due to my reserved personality, I haven't committed fully to the social opportunities here.

I also hesitate to commit long-term to Bali because I fear for the future of Bali.  Bali faces many serious challenges that it is ill-equipped to deal with.  The Balinese government is in large part corrupt, short-sighted, tradition bound, with power highly decentralized in tiny villages so even if the government wanted to take effective action it doesn't have the power.

Bali faces the challenges of development and growth largely brought on by the influx of tourists and expats.  I can't think of any other place in the world that is so underdeveloped and yet attracts so many expats.  Its narrow roads are clogged, its trash collection inadequate, its recycling largely non-existent.  It faces power shortages and clean water shortages.  The rice paddies are being gobbled up by rampant development turning charming villages into concrete monstrosities.  The education system is inadequate and archaic, preparing most people only to work in the hospitality industry, serving tourists and expats, and, with rare exceptions, not with the skills to build medium or large businesses themselves.

The biggest challenge will be whether the Balinese can maintain their culture in the face of so much exposure to Westerners and to Western attitudes and beliefs.  Maintaining the ceremonial rituals is exceedingly labor-intensive, and requires a huge time commitment from the entire village.  The bonds that keep the culture going are quite strong.  But if enough young Balinese say 'what's the point?' and are lured to a Western lifestyle, the culture will fall apart.

Staying here long-term as an expat means that I am part of the problem.  I am contributing to the proliferation of Western style villas, to consuming too much electricity and producing too much trash.  Many expats make a positive contribution to the local Balinese -- starting recycling businesses, teaching better agricultural methods, improving health care, contributing to education initiatives, starting or supporting foundations.  If we stayed, I would try to make a positive contribution.  But addressing the unmet social needs in Bali is a huge undertaking, and to take that on in a serious way requires dedication and a huge commitment.  My goal in coming to Bali is not to bang my head against a corrupt local bureaucracy trying to advocate for needed change.

I would hate to commit long-term to Bali only to witness the gradual destruction of this beautiful island and the transformation of the good-natured, tolerant Balinese into impatient, jaded money grubbers and status seekers.

Perhaps this is an overly pessimistic view, and I certainly hope so.  Even if this vision of the future is unfortunately accurate, it will take many, many years to play itself out, and there are many good years left.

One of the charms of Bali is to see first-hand a people fashion happiness out of different ingredients than we turn to in the West.  It becomes obvious that attitude and expectation determine happiness. Balinese expect to work hard and not to have much material wealth.  They don't expect fame, a high-powered job, lots of money, or plenty of time for recreation and entertainment.  If happiness is having one's expectations met, then not expecting much is a good starting point for a happy life.

It makes one think to see an island full of people living lives that on the whole would make a Westerner utterly miserable, and to see the Balinese be genuinely in good spirits, relaxed, cheerful, quick to laugh and to relish life's joys.

It helps that the Balinese standard of living is steadily improving from a material sense, even though it is still quite low by Western standards  There is a sense of optimism here that comes from new opportunities in the service sector that free the Balinese from back-breaking manual labor, and from higher wages that allow some to pay for motorbikes, or even cars, nicer houses, big TVs, and other modern conveniences.

It is going to be difficult to leave a place of such natural beauty where people are generally content with the little they have and are looking forward to a better future.

It will be a shock to return to a large metropolis within a country that despite having so much is so discontent and that is facing a future that looks bleaker than its past.  It will be a challenge to reenter a society that is bitterly divided, and immersed in struggles with unsustainable budget deficits, high unemployment, indebted students without jobs, destitute seniors without retirements, overextended consumers facing bankruptcy, a broken education system, global warming, and a world filled with billions of people who hate us.  We have many disgruntled people with high expectations wondering who else is to blame for the fix we find ourselves in, bewildered about how a country with such an elevated sense of itself got into such a mess.

Yet I hold out more hope for America than I do for Bali.  Living in Bali, I've gained more appreciation for America's civic institutions.  America has the neighborhood committees, the social activists, excellent colleges and universities, regulations that protect safety, an impartial judiciary, a government where corruption is the exception not the norm, the occasional dedicated mayor, and a diversity of opinions that enable America to face its challenges.  Bali is facing serious challenges that it has never had to face before and may not have the ability to deal with them successfully.

I find myself torn -- attached now to both Bali and America -- but wondering how to best build a happy life in either place.

Enriching or Impoverishing?

Ibu Made, our household helper, is her family's sole wage earner.  Her salary of less than $3 per day is barely enough to feed her family.  For the recent Galungan holiday she had to prepare hundreds of offerings and pay to erect a bamboo penjor in front of her house.  Ten days later, the Kuningan holiday required the preparation of hundreds more offerings.  A couple of weeks later, the village temple celebrated an important anniversary - requiring the preparation of yet more time consuming offerings.

Ibu Made also prepares daily offerings, and special offerings for the new moon and the full moon.  Offerings to the evil spirits during Kejang Kliwan, which occurs every fifteen days, must not be neglected.

a woman on the way to temple carrying an offering

Balinese Hinduism offers a stark tradeoff.  It enriches the Balinese spiritually while impoverishing them materially.

The ceremonies keep the Balinese is a state of perpetual spiritual awareness.  From daily offerings around the home, to the major ceremonies when the gods come down to earth, Balinese are constantly communicating with the spirit world made manifest through ritual observance.

The Balinese try to live in harmony with each other and with the powerful forces that control their destiny.  Evil acts cause ripples that can pass on to future lives, so karma dictates not to harm others.  Anger begets anger and attracts evil spirits, so Balinese avoid expressions of anger and are non-confrontational.

Kuningan offerings at a beach shrine in Sanur

Balinese believe in evil spirits.  They don't try to defeat them.  They respect their power and make frequent offerings to them to appease them and to avoid giving the evil spirits reason to try to do them harm.

There are life-cycle ceremonies, including birth, when a baby first touches the ground at three-months, a tooth-filing ceremony as an adolescent, wedding ceremonies and cremation ceremonies. On the Balinese calendar, for a typical Balinese, there is a ceremony on average one out of every four days.

All of Balinese life is structured around the Balinese Hindu system of beliefs and the ceremonial rituals.  It is an all encompassing world-view, from cradle to grave and every day in between.  It provides a framework for an individual's life, and governs the relationships with family, community, ancestors, and the spirit world.

There is no separation of church and state.  One of the Bali government's primary responsibilities is to support the religious life of the Balinese, which they do in part by helping to pay for temple construction and renovation and for large ceremonies.  Other faiths are tolerated, but not supported.

Bali without the practices of Balinese Hinduism would not be Bali.  These observances are what make Bali special.

But these practices come at a huge cost.  The bulk of the work of making the ritual offerings fall to the women.  They are endlessly preparing for and then participating in ceremonies.  These ceremonies are hugely time-consuming and require enormous effort.

offerings at a family temple ceremony

The ceremonies are quite expensive.  Estimates are that ceremonies consume between 10% to a third of a typical income.  For those who are poorer, the percentage is likely on the higher end of that range.  Since many Balinese live at a subsistence level, barely able to afford food, the costs of the ceremonies deprive them of necessities.

Paying for all the ceremonies and ritual offerings require many to borrow and lead many into a cycle of life-long debt.  Some pledge the title to their land or their house as collateral, and if the debt cannot be paid back, then the house or the land is lost.

The most expensive ceremonies are the cremation ceremonies.  These can cost several thousand dollars if done in style.  This may not sound like much but to a typical Balinese who earns around $1,000 per year and who has no savings, it is a fortune.

All the money and effort that goes into creating the offerings, the effigies, and the cremation towers, ends with them being burnt or discarded.  Small offerings, once their purpose is served, are discarded onto trash heaps and burnt or dumped in a river.  The Ogoh-ogoh, painstakingly created over months, are typically burnt as part of the Nyepi ceremonies.  The large animal effigies created for cremation ceremonies are, of course, burnt.

laboriously constructed offerings once used are discarded and burnt

The resources consumed by observing the many ceremonies serve to keep the Balinese in a self-perpetuating cycle of poverty and debt.  Those fortunate enough to generate surplus wealth that could be reinvested to grow the economy, usually choose to use much of that wealth in larger, more elaborate, more impressive ceremonies -- so that wealth goes up in smoke as well instead of being put to a productive purpose.  One side effect, though, is that this consumption of surplus wealth in ceremonies serves to reduce disparities of wealth among members of the same community.

Even the Balinese government is aware of the issue.  It is trying to instill the message that ceremonial observance need not be expensive to be meaningful and sufficient.

Dewa tells us that his Western customers often ask him whether all the money consumed by cremation ceremonies might be better spent on education for the next generation.  These are similar to questions Western societies face in deciding whether to prioritize the needs of the elderly or the young, but in Bali the issue isn't the amounts spent on healthcare but on cremation ceremonies.

The Balinese don't seem to question these tradeoffs.  We aren't aware of any youth rebelling at their religious obligations.  But we've heard some expats suggest that Balinese women who marry expats do so in part to opt-out of the lifelong burdens that observing all the ceremonies require.

If life's purpose is to have a connection to one's family, one's community, one's ancestors and the spirit world, and to live in harmonious balance with all the elements of one's world, to live humbly and to earn the respect of your community, to do no harm to others and to meet death with a clear mind and a clear conscience, then the Balinese ceremonies help fulfill that purpose.

They fulfill that purpose perhaps much better than Western societies do.  What good is the freedom and material wealth that we have in the West if a sense of harmony, community, spiritual connection and deeper purpose is lacking?

In the West we have these needs too, but fulfill them in different ways.  Football (or baseball or other sports) offers much of the same bonding together as a community, pageantry and ritual, and losing one's individuality into something that is bigger than oneself that can be found in Balinese ceremonies.  We devote enormous amounts of time, money and energy to following football -- even fantasy football.  Our governments pour hundreds of millions of dollars into building stadiums.  I shared this thought with a friend here, only to learn that he'd had the same thought that football was the closest American equivalent to Balinese community ceremonies.  As long as each society is going to devote huge amounts of time, energy and money to ritual ceremonies, I'd say the Balinese have the edge in receiving a much richer and sustaining experience from theirs than we do from ours.

But then Balinese rituals and traditions conflict with Western values of realizing one's potential, personal freedom, artistic expression, scientific inquiry, innovation and economic growth.  To many expats, the Balinese seem tradition bound, lacking in curiosity, close minded and superstitious.

Living in Bali offers a clear contrast with Western lifestyles and values.  I appreciate the tolerance and the emphasis on harmony of the Balinese and contrast that with the competitive aggressiveness of many Americans.  Yet I wouldn't want to adopt a Balinese way of life.

We came to Bali to experience a different culture and a different way of life.  I'm glad that Bali offers this to us, in such a colorful and vivid way and with people who are kind and tolerant.