And then, the chance to, uh, to, uh, do what they say before. Get some wet? Welcome to paradise! It's home to some of the best surf in the world. It's also home to Mega Samadhi, who knows better than most, certainly way better than me, how to ride the waves of Uluwatu, Bali.
It's like dancing to the moon. Yeah. Mega is a homegrown champion.
One of Bali's top pro surfers, he's living the dream. It's hard. Maybe I'll be a farmer or a farmer like my grandfather.
His grandfather, even his father, knew a very different Uluwatu. A sleepy, off-the-beaten-track corner of Bali, before the crowds and the surf tourists came, and over time, dramatically reshaped the place. I'm going to find a woman to compete with other people, we don't know, at the end we fight, it's not fun, it's not good. Over the last 40 years, millions of surfers have come here chasing their own slice of paradise.
But the influx of visitors has not been well managed. And now it's threatening the very things that make Bali beautiful. Well I think it's fine, building jumbo planes.
Taking a ride on a cosmic dream In the 1970s, many of the first generation of surfers took a winding dirt road south from the main centre, Denpasar, to find this rugged and remote coast. Its reliable brakes and crystal clean water quickly became the stuff of legend. I first came here fresh out of school, but returning today, it's obvious Uluwatu's popularity has come at a cost the locals can no longer ignore. But tell me, why do the children play? When we come here in 1979, there was absolutely no pollution at all.
Australian Mike O'Leary is a local well and truly. He found his first pilgrimage to Uluwatu simply enchanting, and he decided to make Bali his home. Bali was known for its gentle spiritualism.
Back in those days you could actually feel, well, ghosts or spirits, you could feel that in the air. Back in the 70s and the 80s, I think it's probably one of the top six best known surf breaks in the world and it's a must see on every surfers tour of the world. All that attention has had a dramatic impact, and Mike O'Leary's worried it's just too much for this place to bear. Between 10 and 15,000 people a month are hitting here. Out of sight of the cafes and surf shops.
that have sprung up over time, ample evidence of a little backwater bursting under the strain. Just come in here Matt, this is where the bit of a cesspool here that the surfers don't see, everyone sees a great environment to do a lot too. out in the surf, but they don't see the accumulation of the cooking oil, sewage, and other liquid waste.
It stinks, doesn't it? It stinks, and I think it's been going for the last 30 years, and I think it keeps seeping out. Mike and a bunch of other surfers have raised money to test the waters and found human effluent is seeping down to the surf. While they've already set up a garbage service, they're still struggling to fund a new sewerage system. In many ways, Uluwatu is a microcosm of Bali's mounting problems.
Bali, like the rest of the world, has become very serious and money-orientated. Alarm bells have been ringing for decades, but Bali is now being stretched to breaking point. Since the late 1970s, the population's grown from around two and a half million up towards the four million mark, and the number of tourists has exploded, from 120,000 a year to well over two and a half million, including 800,000 Australians. Together, they generate thousands of tonnes of rubbish each day, and the waste problem is quite simply out of control. As the tourists pour in, the rubbish is piling up and spilling over, and it's turning these environmentally sensitive mangroves into a putrid swamp that stinks to high heaven.
This is just a few kilometres away from the Cootah tourist trap, but it's light years away from tropical paradise. The rubbish floats down the rivers and out into the sea, piling up on the world-famous Kuta Beach. Kuta is the epicenter of Bali's transformation. Its radical, ceaseless redevelopment has sparked intense debate about what it now means to be Balinese. What is it?
Like our soul is lost, for example. And among the board hire businesses dotting the Kuta sand, we find another local worried about the future of his island home. For Jerring, Kuta has become a model for how not to develop barley. I remember that time. I live like probably 200 meters away from Kuta Beach.
And at night, I can clearly hear the sound of the waves from my room. Now, you can hear people say f*** off. I'm sexy and I know it. Jering is a Kuta boy born and bred, and he sees the commercialism and sheer scale of development in Kuta as a creeping cancer, now destroying other parts of the island. What I see the mainstream, the Kuda or Bali mainstream right now, the mentality, is selling, selling, selling.
And so I found a point where, dude, I have a right to say no to this because that's wrong. And I want to fight this. Jering is one of Indonesia's biggest rock stars.
His band Superman is Dead is a huge national act. He's also out the front of another push, a growing local resistance to development and tourism at any cost. There's a lot of people I know that are really religious and going to temples a lot.
But they're just selling out, you know, they're selling out the land and... Is that a true Balinese, you know? Are you protecting your island? It may seem odd that a young bloke who makes a living out of a raucous good time is taking a stand against the cooterisation of barley. But then, throughout the island, it's the younger generation that's speaking up.
It's what you do, it's not what you wear. It's what you do, it's what you're saying, it's what your messages are about. If it's for Bali, if it's for your community, if it's to protect, I mean like, if it's for a greater cause for everyone else in Bali, then you are a Balinese, you know? Demonstrations and protests are not a normal part of Bali's culture. They're spiritual people, not activists.
But Jerring's been working to change that, alongside his friend Gendo, one of Bali's best-known environmentalists. Bali people are like lemming, lemming animals, lemming syndrome. Animals that are aware, they know if they go to the sea, they kill them. Across the Bukit Peninsula from Kuta's night spots lies Nusadua, a quieter family destination now dominated by huge international resorts.
Here, Gendo is tracking the construction of yet another super-sized development, the 740-room Mulia Hotel. He's the biggest thorn in the side of the government and developers. His activities have even landed him in jail, but he remains determined to rein in the industry.
And Bali must reject such big projects. Bali does not need big hotels, because it must maintain its sustainability with simple tourism. It does not need something like this. In the late 1970s, Bali had just one five-star hotel. Now, there are 41. Gendo says they're guilty of a dreadful waste of water.
With each guest flushing away three times the amount used by the average Balinese family. And it's a luxury Bali can ill afford, as much of the water in this dry part of the island is piped in from agricultural areas further north. If this is over now, it will definitely degrade culture.
And automatically there will be a change in culture if this is gone. What does it mean? In the future, in the next ten years, Bali may be left to be remembered. The flag of the Balinese cultural defense is, in my opinion and my belief, the flag of agriculture.
A few hours drive from the hustle and bustle of southern Bali, up into the rolling, rising slopes of the island, you'll find its cultural heart, Ubud. Ubud has become a favoured destination for travellers seeking a peaceful, quiet and more authentic Bali. Gendo was born and raised here, among the farms and rice terraces, where Bali's brand of Hinduism even shaped agricultural practice.
Subak irrigation is as complex as it is deeply spiritual, binding farmers, water and rice to the gods, who in turn keep the fields fertile and green. But farmers have been selling their land to developers, fueling a real estate boom that's driven prices through the roof. Thousands of acres of Bali's rice fields have been turned over to villas and hotels. That's it, because for villas, hotels.
And what is most sad is that now Pura Subak no longer has a rice field. Because the rice field that became its territory, it has become buildings, hotels, restaurants, accommodation for tourists. In the future, so now, slowly, Ubud imitates Kuta.
Arinova Dewiputra is a member of one of Bali's ceremonial royal families. She's watched her Ubud change from farming community to tourist hotspot in a relatively short space of time. When I was a child, I used to go to the rivers with my great-grandmother.
We'd take a bath there, you know, like together with everybody in the village. It was nice, and I don't experience that for my kids now. Because the quality of the water, the river is no longer safe for them to do that kind of activity, playing in the river. It is a shame, you know, because I can see now that my kids cannot do that.
Still, Nova, for one, is hopeful that time-honoured traditions will provide the strength to endure. She believes Ubud's reputation as a cultural centre holds the key to its salvation. That the nightly performances of gamelan and dance have built a reservoir of cultural heritage, which will sustain Ubud and preserve its magic.
It's not just a tourist cliche? No, it's not just for tourists, you know, it's actually for all of us to inherit all this value, you know, who can really, you know, we know our own tradition. Ram Ram Ram, Iyam Iyam Iyam Balinese people believe that everything in Bali, they have their own South.
This life is offering. Everything we do in our life is offering to God, to other human beings, and also to the environment. In a temple in the capital, Denpasar is a man who should have the power and authority to guide Bali's future.
Mardai Pastika is familiar to many Australians. After all, he was the police chief who helped bring the Bali bombers to justice. Now, he's Bali's governor.
Tourists is not destroying Bali. The greedy investors are destroying Bali. Tourists is okay.
They are good people. But the greedy investors, that's the problem. Isn't part of the problem that greedy investors are all mixed up in the political system of Bali and of Indonesia?
Yes, of course, there is an influence of that. But still, the people on the right side is still stronger. And we hope this becomes more and more strong. Made Pastika knows he's up against some powerful forces, exploitative foreign investors and a who's who of local influence. This luxury hotel is part owned by Tommy Saharto, son of Indonesia's late dictator.
This one belongs to the Buckry Group, whose favoured son runs one of the nation's biggest political parties. A few years ago, Governor Pestica issued a decree banning new hotels from this part of the island. But developers and local mayors have taken little notice, and the cranes keep on coming.
You know, everybody wants to invest in Bali. On one side, maybe that is good, creating jobs, moving the economy. But on the other side, because some of these investors are greedy.
Exploitation of the environment, exploitation of the land, exploitation of the people, exploitation of the culture. That is the problem. Those who really love Bali, they will invest with their heart. Jering has invested plenty of heart in his own business, turning his family's old bed and breakfast into a rockabilly punk venue.
Twice Bar, as it's known, is popular with local kids, unwelcome in the tourist traps on Main Street, where foreigners walk in for free, but Balinese must pay for entry. It just takes a lot of our dignity and pride and somehow we just felt like this is not our home, you know? This is another country.
What I love the most about Twice Bar is, first, anyone can just go in there. It's a symbol of resistance. You know, locals have a right to have fun in Bali. That's what I'm trying to say, my statement. Tourists is not God here, you know?
MUSIC PLAYS Gerring's loyal followers, the punks and rockers, are not the archetypal Balinese featured on postcards and travel brochures. MUSIC PLAYS You know, we're adopting, like, Western culture, but it doesn't mean we have to be the slave of Western culture. Western civilization, right? What I believe is that you can look not like a Balinese, you can talk not like a Balinese, but what you do and what you care about is for the island and for the community. It's the young locals who know more about the world than their parents ever did, who also know they need to fight for their unique home and future.
Surfing has changed my life. Surfing has brought me abroad. We know how life is there. When we return to Indonesia, we have to be held or appreciated. We seem to go, but you don't know what you've got till it's gone.
We pay paradise, put up a parking lot. We pay paradise, put up a parking lot. We pay paradise, put up a parking lot.