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And
why
not
?
It
’
s
my
Eden
,
is
it
not
?
Soon
I
’
ve
given
all
the
plants
around
here
new
monikers
-
daffodil
tree
,
cabbage
-
palm
,
prom
-
dress
weed
,
spiral
show
-
off
,
tip
-
toe
blossom
,
melancholy
-
vine
and
a
spectacular
pink
orchid
I
have
christened
"
Baby
’
s
First
Handshake
.
"
The
unnecessary
and
superfluous
volume
of
pure
beauty
around
here
is
not
to
be
believed
.
I
can
pick
papayas
and
bananas
right
off
the
trees
outside
my
bedroom
window
.
There
’
s
a
cat
who
lives
here
who
is
enormously
affectionate
to
me
for
the
half
hour
every
day
before
I
feed
him
,
then
moans
crazily
the
rest
of
the
time
like
he
’
s
having
Vietnam
War
flashbacks
.
Oddly
,
I
don
’
t
mind
this
.
I
don
’
t
mind
anything
these
days
.
I
can
’
t
imagine
or
remember
discontent
.
The
sound
universe
is
also
spectacular
around
here
.
In
the
evenings
there
’
s
a
cricket
orchestra
with
frogs
providing
the
bass
line
.
In
the
dead
of
night
the
dogs
howl
about
how
misunderstood
they
are
.
Before
dawn
the
roosters
for
miles
around
announce
how
freaking
cool
it
is
to
be
roosters
.
(
"
We
are
ROOSTERS
!
"
they
holler
.
"
We
are
the
only
ones
who
get
to
be
ROOSTERS
!
"
)
Every
morning
around
sunrise
there
is
a
tropical
birdsong
competition
,
and
it
’
s
always
a
ten
-
way
tie
for
the
championship
.
When
the
sun
comes
out
the
place
quiets
down
and
the
butterflies
get
to
work
.
The
whole
house
is
covered
with
vines
;
I
feel
like
any
day
it
will
disappear
into
the
foliage
completely
and
I
will
disappear
with
it
and
become
a
jungle
flower
myself
.
The
rent
is
less
than
what
I
used
to
pay
in
New
York
City
for
taxi
fare
every
month
The
word
paradise
,
by
the
way
,
which
comes
to
us
from
the
Persian
,
means
literally
"
a
walled
garden
.
"
That
said
,
I
must
be
honest
here
and
relay
that
it
takes
me
only
three
afternoons
of
research
in
the
local
library
to
realize
that
all
my
original
ideas
about
Balinese
paradise
were
a
bit
misguided
.
I
’
d
been
telling
people
since
I
first
visited
Bali
two
years
ago
that
this
small
island
was
the
world
’
s
only
true
utopia
,
a
place
that
has
known
only
peace
and
harmony
and
balance
for
all
time
.
A
perfect
Eden
with
no
history
of
violence
or
bloodshed
ever
.
I
’
m
not
sure
where
I
got
this
grand
idea
,
but
I
endorsed
it
with
full
confidence
.
"
Even
the
policemen
wear
flowers
in
their
hair
,
"
I
would
say
,
as
if
that
proved
it
.
In
reality
,
though
,
it
turns
out
Bali
has
had
exactly
as
bloody
and
violent
and
oppressive
a
history
as
anywhere
else
on
earth
where
human
beings
have
ever
lived
.
When
the
Javanese
kings
first
immigrated
here
in
the
sixteenth
century
,
they
essentially
established
a
feudal
colony
,
with
a
strict
caste
system
which
-
like
all
self
-
respecting
caste
systems
-
tended
not
to
trouble
itself
with
consideration
for
those
at
the
bottom
.
The
economy
of
early
Bali
was
fueled
by
a
lucrative
slave
trade
(
which
not
only
preceded
European
participation
in
the
international
slave
traffic
by
several
centuries
,
but
also
outlived
Europe
’
s
trafficking
of
human
lives
for
a
good
long
while
)
.
Internally
,
the
island
was
constantly
at
war
as
rival
kings
staged
attacks
(
complete
with
mass
rape
and
murder
)
on
their
neighbors
.
Until
the
late
nineteenth
century
,
the
Balinese
had
a
reputation
amongst
traders
and
sailors
for
being
vicious
fighters
.
(
The
word
amok
,
as
in
"
running
amok
,
"
is
a
Balinese
word
,
describing
a
battle
technique
of
suddenly
going
insanely
wild
against
one
’
s
enemies
in
suicidal
and
bloody
hand
-
to
-
hand
combat
;
the
Europeans
were
frankly
terrified
by
this
practice
.
)
With
a
well
-
disciplined
army
of
30
,
000
,
the
Balinese
defeated
their
Dutch
invaders
in
1848
,
again
in
1849
and
once
more
,
for
good
measure
,
in
1850
.
They
collapsed
under
Dutch
rule
only
when
the
rival
kings
of
Bali
broke
ranks
and
betrayed
each
other
in
bids
for
power
,
aligning
with
the
enemy
for
the
promise
of
good
business
deals
later
.
So
to
gauze
this
island
’
s
history
today
in
a
dream
of
paradise
is
a
bit
insulting
to
reality
;
it
’
s
not
like
these
people
have
spent
the
last
millennium
just
sitting
around
smiling
and
singing
happy
songs
.
But
in
the
1920s
and
1930s
,
when
an
elite
class
of
Western
travelers
discovered
Bali
,
all
this
bloodiness
was
ignored
as
the
newcomers
agreed
that
this
was
truly
"
The
Island
of
the
Gods
,
"
where
"
everyone
is
an
artist
"
and
where
humanity
lives
in
an
unspoiled
state
of
bliss
.
It
’
s
been
a
lingering
idea
,
this
dream
;
most
visitors
to
Bali
(
myself
on
my
first
trip
included
)
still
endorse
it
.
"
I
was
furious
at
God
that
I
was
not
born
Balinese
,
"
said
the
German
photographer
George
Krauser
after
visiting
Bali
in
the
1930s
.
Lured
by
reports
of
otherworldly
beauty
and
serenity
,
some
really
A
-
list
tourists
started
visiting
the
island
-
artists
like
Walter
Spies
,
writers
like
Noel
Coward
,
dancers
like
Claire
Holt
,
actors
like
Charlie
Chaplin
,
scholars
like
Margaret
Mead
(
who
,
despite
all
the
naked
breasts
,
wisely
called
Balinese
civilization
on
what
it
truly
was
,
a
society
as
prim
as
Victorian
England
:
"
Not
an
ounce
of
free
libido
in
the
whole
culture
.
"
)
The
party
ended
in
the
1940s
when
the
world
went
to
war
.
The
Japanese
invaded
Indonesia
,
and
the
blissful
expatriates
in
their
Balinese
gardens
with
their
pretty
houseboys
were
forced
to
flee
.
In
the
struggle
for
Indonesian
independence
which
followed
the
war
,
Bali
became
just
as
divided
and
violent
as
the
rest
of
the
archipelago
,
and
by
the
1950s
(
reports
a
study
called
Bali
:
Paradise
Invented
)
if
a
Westerner
dared
visit
Bali
at
all
,
he
might
have
been
wise
to
sleep
with
a
gun
under
his
pillow
.
In
the
1960s
,
the
struggle
for
power
turned
all
of
Indonesia
into
a
battlefield
between
Nationalists
and
Communists
.
After
a
coup
attempt
in
Jakarta
in
1965
,
Nationalist
soldiers
were
sent
to
Bali
with
the
names
of
every
suspected
Communist
on
the
island
.
Over
the
course
of
about
a
week
,
aided
by
the
local
police
and
village
authorities
at
every
step
,
the
Nationalist
forces
steadily
murdered
their
way
through
every
township
.
Something
like
100
,
000
corpses
choked
the
beautiful
rivers
of
Bali
when
the
killing
spree
was
over
.
