These lines were written in Bali. I had planned this trip far before the Coronavirus rocked the world and decided to stick with my plans unless my flight from Frankfurt got canceled. I flew to Bali on March 17th, and on March 20th, global entry stopped. I was okay with risking potentially quarantining for two weeks, but luckily, that did not happen. You may call it coincidence; I call it fate.
It was important to me to get a break from media, opinions, and advice. I again deactivated my Instagram account and left various Facebook groups. To protect and preserve my own energy, I had to turn my back on the (German) negativity and the constant fear surrounding me for the moment. I wanted time and tranquility to properly grasp my situation, turn inwards, reflect, and observe. This trip was worthwhile because I could first-hand experience the virus’s reactions in another affected country and culture. What was especially interesting was to witness how differently we, as people and as nations, deal with unknown situations differently. The pandemic revealed our true faces.
For the first couple of weeks, I was the only guest of an Indonesian family in Ubud. They took excellent care of me and answered many cultural questions. The Coronavirus was, of course, a frequent topic of conversation there. Bali’s economy relies heavily and almost exclusively on tourism. The negative effects on the people there cannot be put into words, and yet I could experience a positivity there that was just as indescribable. Above all, I wanted to know whether my presence as a tourist at this strange time was okay or whether it might’ve been disrespectful to the Indonesian people? They explained that as a human being, you can be anywhere in the world, and nobody has an exclusive right to exist – as long as you play by the rules. In other words, always use hand sanitizer, avoid crowds, wear your mask, and stay calm. In this case, to be calm means not to panic. Panic, stress, and fear weaken the immune system, and this weakness, in turn, makes you a target.
Ketut, my host, meditates several times a day like most other Balinese. He says that when you are at peace with yourself, have created and built a connection with yourself, and value a healthy diet, meaning fruit and vegetables, you have nothing to worry about. This statement confirms my opinion on the subject even more. This obviously does not mean that people here in Bali are carefree. Quite the contrary. But the Balinese deal with stress entirely differently, which inspires me.
Talking to the locals, they revealed that they were worried about how things would look for their families in the future, whether the crime rate would rise again, and how tourism would be in Bali. Yet, the people there do not fall victim to restlessness because they know this will not help. Ketut told me that fear is a foreign word for him, and at the end of the day, it only creates more fear.
Almost all restaurants were closed or, as in Germany, only offered meals to go. The beaches have been cordoned off by police patrols. All Yoga and Energy-Healing-Studios, for which Ubud is well-known and popular, were closed indefinitely. Live-streamed online classes were the solution. It was lovely to see how creative some people and companies – whether in Bali, Germany, or other countries – are and what great ideas and solutions originated during the pandemic. People start to rethink and reevaluate, which creates courage and, above all, is just wonderful to see.
In Indonesia, the lockdown was not yet in effect, but the government still appealed to all locals and tourists to stay at home and order or cook their food as much as possible. Tourism in Bali is so essential that you can find a few open shops here and there. From time to time, free air pollution face masks were distributed in the streets and in front of all shops. Whether in supermarkets or restaurants, employees were standing and greeting you politely with hand sanitizer.
If you have ever been to Bali, especially to Canggu and Ubud, you know how much traffic there is usually and how many tourists visit these beautiful places. It was amazing to see how quiet it was there.
When I talked to my other host, Yudi, he was even a bit happy about the situation: “It’s good for the environment. For nature. You hear the birds chirping again, and the air smells and tastes fresher and clearer. You can really feel that the earth is breathing again.”
I also spent Nyepi here. Nyepi, or Silent Day, is the highest Hindu holiday in Bali and a common holiday in Indonesia. Its purpose is to celebrate the Balinese New Year. It is a day on which the Hindus purify their body, mind, and soul with meditation and fasting. The Balinese, therefore, spend it in peace and quiet. This means no one can leave their house, make noise, use electricity or fire. The internet was turned off all over Bali, and the air traffic was shut down that day. Since the Balinese follow a different calendar, Nyepi only sometimes occurs on the same day. This year, the holiday fell on March 25th. What was so special about it? Nyepi was extended to two days because of the Coronavirus, and the traditional and impressive Ogoh-Ogoh parade, which always takes place the day before and reminded me of a German carnival parade, was postponed to August for the time being.
I also spoke with Wayan, who drove me from Canggu back to Ubud. At first, he didn’t understand my question about how he deals with Coronavirus and if he was worried. Not because he didn’t understand me but because he thought that nothing could be done apart from taking precautions. “It’s the way it is, and as long as you have a roof over your head and can provide your family with food, everything is fine. Then you can be happy and satisfied.” Positivity! That was my mantra on this trip.
You know how they say that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence and that you always want to have what you don’t have? There are no tropical temperatures in Germany, and nature does not compare to Bali. However, one does not want to be admitted to an Indonesian hospital, as the condition of the health system is more than critical. The hospitals do not have enough beds, and there is a lack of staff and necessary medication. I met a young woman in Ubud who told me about a tourist from Russia who suffered a heart attack in a restaurant a few weeks prior. He died at the scene of the accident since the ambulance took over an hour to get there. His wife was with him the entire time and had to witness the terrible scenario.
Why am I telling you this? Because we are very rarely aware of the lucky situation we are in and rarely grateful for the things that only we may take for granted…
