Australian retirees in Bali are being told to pay up or move out

As the Indonesian government welcomed world leaders to the G20 in Bali last week, thousands of retirees who have made Indonesia – and in particular Bali – their home, are getting their welcome mats withdrawn.

As the end draws near and the dullness of suburbia hardens like arteries, retirement wakens old dreams. If only we’d been more adventurous, less quenched with fear of the unknown and risked the odds.

Now there’s a chance to reset life – spending what years remain in magical, mysterious Bali, not as a come-and-go tourist but as a settled resident. Every day in the laid-back tropics, beach in the morning, siestas after massage and helpers so cheap you’ll feel guilty and want to double their salaries.

Countries with holiday spots that lure foreigners like earning by stamping passports, rather than shipping coal or iron ore. Malaysia, Thailand and Singapore offer “second home visas”. Now Indonesia is getting into the game.

On October 25, Indonesia announced a long-stay visa targeting digital nomads and people sufficiently well off to bring money into the economy. Some details of the new visa remain unclear, but it is supposed to come into effect on Christmas Eve – an irony adding insult to injury for some. But don’t sell the car and give the furniture to the kids yet, because their bureaucrats, like ours, don’t always meet deadlines.

The real catch causing uproar among existing and prospective expat retirees is that the new visa is supposed to replace the current retirement visa – the KITAS (KITAP for longer term).

The retirement visas have been in place for years, allowing people over 55 to use their home nation’s pension or savings to settle in Bali, get a long-term home lease and hire staff to service it. The only caveat is that you have to show proof of having the money to sustain yourself, have health insurance and a guarantor, usually organised by a local visa agent. KITAS/KITAP holders also cannot work or earn income in Indonesia.

Although it allows holders to work, the new Second Home Visa has other restrictions. To qualify, a deposit of approx. $200,000 is required to be made into an Indonesian bank, and to remain there for the duration of the visa (five or ten years). Alternatively, a “luxury home” may replace the bank deposit as surety. The definition of “luxury home” is unclear, and it only applies to certain types of leases. There are also many restrictions on foreigners owning property in Indonesia.

This is what has retirees on the existing visas so concerned. Thousands have arranged their lives and finances based on the existing rules, and they will now have to either comply with the rules of this new visa, or leave.

In a recent meeting between an interest group representing expats and immigration officials, it was made clear that:

People on retirement visa will have 180 days to change their visa to the new Second Home visa or to a short-term visa, or leave.

For many – perhaps the majority – of current retirement visa holders, the new rules makes leaving the only option. Short-term visas are generally limited to six months and raising $200,000 cash is a big ask for most who are either on a pension or have their money in a super fund or similar. Despite the new rules not yet in effect, there are many reports of retirees who have already decided to leave, and leasehold prices are reportedly falling in areas popular with retirees.

And when these people leave, those they employ will be out of a job, and the landlords without a tenant.

The Second Home Visa is a great idea, and is no doubt a response to similar arrangements in Malaysia, Thailand, Singapore and elsewhere. The business of attracting wealthy immigrants is a competitive one. But so far, no explanation has been given by the Indonesian government as to why it needs to throw out the thousands of retirees who contribute to the economy by employing staff, hiring cars and motorbikes, living well and paying for long-term leases, often for years up-front.

Bali got more than a million Aussies a year BC (Before Covid) and numbers could lift following positive publicity from the G20 diplomacy show. According to the Bali Legal and Human Rights regional office, 787 Australians were granted long-term stays in Bali in 2018. At that time, there were just under 14,000 retirement visa holders in Bali alone.

Immigration is a national responsibility, so Jakarta rules. Whatever the final regulations, expect changes. Government policy making in general is often fluid and subject to sudden changes – often after listening to the responses of interest groups. Nothing wrong with that.

If considering coming to Bali for the long term wanting solitude, think beyond Kuta and Ubud. The new visas includes ten other “holiday” zones across the Republic to lessen pressures on Bali.

Immigration officials can deport without using the courts. No rights to prolonged appeal procedures, so the choice could be on the plane or in the slammer. Lawyers willing to defend aliens are hard to find. Immigration advisers abound, but best advice is to DIY using official resources.

That doesn’t mean that most Indonesians are crooks, quite the contrary. The percentage of con artists and shonky operators is probably no higher than in Oz. The difference is that Indonesia lacks strong consumer protection laws and dispute settlement tribunals, so if there’s a falling-out, the foreigner will most likely lose.

Medical care has improved greatly this century and horror tales of dirty hospitals and sloppy docs (which we also have Down Under) are a lot less common.

Your correspondent’s contacts with GPs, specialists and hospitals in the public system have been professional and outcomes satisfactory. Encounters and experiences are rarely universal, only rough guides. So far mine have been more plus than minus, also with guys in uniforms.

But unless the Indonesian government has a change of heart, these and other benefits of living in Indonesia may no longer be available to the average retiree without a fat bank balance.

[Source]

 

On Prospero's Isle (extract from Pico Iyer's "Video Night in Kathmandu")

 

"The Last Paradise" is the first book in English on Bali

 

 

To continue, click here

 

Bali - Enchanted Isle

 

 

To continue reading, click here

 

Helen Eva Yates' book "Bali - Enchanted Isle" was published in 1933 when Bali was still the Bali of our dreams. Immerse yourself in these two hundred pages and take a step back in time.

 

On Prospero's Isle

 

"Say Bali, and two things come to mind: tourism and paradise. Both are inalienable features of the island, and also incompatible. For as fast as paradises seduce tourists, tourists reduce paradises. Such are the unerring laws of physics: what goes up must come down; for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Hardly has a last paradise been discovered than everyone converges on it so fast that it quickly becomes a paradise lost. Nowhere, however, had this struggle been so protracted or intense as in Bali, most pestered and most paradisiacal of islands."

Turn to page 39 in Pico Iyer's "Video night in Kathmandu : and other reports from the not-so-far East" and you get yourself thirty-four pages about Bali that surpasses anything you find in your common-or-garden tourist guide (to read the whole article, SIGN UP - it's free! - and LOG IN). (or try here)

I've been to Bali too - but not for quite a while!

 

 

VILLA AGUNG in Lovina

My first stay in Lovina was in April 2009. At the time I blogged:

 

"On arrival at the Perama bus stop in Lovina, the few of us who had come this far received a free lunch - simple but filling - which was included in the fare. Then we were given a quick promotional tour of their little rental bungalows which were lovely and quiet and which - wait for it! - rented for Rp.80,000 FOR TWO NIGHTS - and that includes breakfast! That's AUS$5 a night! One drawback: there is no pool but the beach is at the back of the property or for Rp.15,000 a day the nearby hotel Celuk Agung will let you use their 25 m pool.

By comparison, Sandy and Gus's VILLA AGUNG seems outrageously expensive at Rp.200,000 a night for a fan-cooled room. The menu, too, is a bit expensive in this ageing and slightly derelict-looking establishment but it has a friendly clientele and the owner, 68-year old Gus from Washington D.C., is one of the few agreeable Yanks I have ever met. His wife Sandy hasn't put in an appearance yet but no doubt she will eventually emerge from their adjoining residence which they built some ten years ago, after which they also acquired VILLA AGUNG which had gone bust. After the first Bali bombing, they thought it would happen to them, too, as they watched their place remain empty for well over a year.

Back to bed for another hour before the mosque and the roosters wake me up again when I drop into the pool described in their website as 'intimate' which is code for 'very tiny', however, it does the job of warming me up (yes, you have read correctly: at the crack of dawn, before the sun heats up the air, it's warmer inside the pool than out.)

 

VILLA AGUNG has since undergone a major facelift - see here. I wonder if Gus is still around? He was 68 in 2009 which would make him 79 today. Here is what he wrote about his experience in Bali:

 

"Homestay Agung in Lovina, Bali was the original “homestay” on Anturan Beach. It was founded by an Englishman, Bill Pierce, in 1980. It changed hands briefly, but fell onto hard times and went into bankruptcy.

Sandy, purchased the hotel in 1997, with a Balinese partner, Nyoman. It was in a very sorry state, having been trashed and graffitied over the years. There were 2 thatched cottages, a ripped out kitchen, open latrine and a ghostly shell occupied by birds and mosquitoes! The original restaurant area was redesigned, reroofed with thatch, retiled and a beach front bar added. Upstairs above the restaurant is still a great place to relax and watch the waves and the goings-on on the beach. It retains its old charm, like your grandmother’s outside porch.

Bali, at the time, was suffering a financial crisis and the Indonesian rupiah skyrocketed against the US dollar. At the time of purchase, the Indonesian government restricted currency to no more than RP 10 000 or US$1. Thus, the transaction was sealed in a duffle bag with the equivalent of Us$1 bills! All this counted out on the floor of a money changer in Sanur! This was a nightmare.

It took about 18 months to renovate, which included much hand wringing and tears and swift enlightenment about doing business in Bali! There were many times I wanted to throw in the towel or the mop as the case maybe. I learned my pidgin Balinese very quickly. The tiles for the pool mysteriously disappeared, along with tools etc, but my faithful Balinese friends recovered the power drill and shaved the thief’s head before dunking him in the great and muddy pool area! I am still looking for an attractively tiled kitchen in the village.

Having no previous experience as a hotelier or chef, the learning curve was steep and swift. Maybe my background in mental health was a plus. The staff from the village had never had a fridge, a microwave or oven, vacuum cleaner or a very clean house. Their only lightbulb is 5 watts, consequently I swear they can see in the dark. There are also evil spirits which come out at night and any foray out of the kitchen for supplies takes two, huddled together for protection. As I lived in the village for a month, while building my house, I can attest to the fact that there’s lots of dust stirred up by all the “sweeping”, at which the Balinese excel, and keeping things clean is almost impossible. During the rainy season, a persistent mold creeps up the walls and with no money for paint, houses just remain in that sorry state. Old habits won’t be changed and the girls still do not like the vacuum, are afraid of electricity and absolutely refuse to use a deep fat fryer, cappuccino machine or a squeegy mop. Some things you just have to get over or you will go crazy. Hot water and cleaning dishes do not go together, no matter how hard you try, but they do like the dishwasher, thank goodness! After 15 years I have just gotten them to taste the food they are cooking and by now I actually think they like it.

Telling you there is something wrong, lost, brocken or finished is alien to the Balinese culture, in case you are upset. Consequently, the first time you find out the door handle is loose is when it comes off in the guest’s hand. There must be a law that says you cannot order something for the kitchen unless it is totally finished and this you only discover just before dinner. We ran out of chicken one night, so I sent my trusty driver to get more. It seemed to take for ever and when I went to find him, he was busy plucking the feathers. We do pride ourselves on “fresh” food.

The first night we opened, a big, burly Australian plonked himself down on the bed, after a few beers I might add, and the bed collapsed, forcing his wife to roll out of the bed. Talk about Fawlty Towers, there were so many disasters, now quite hilarious, but to a neophite hotelier not so funny at the time. We were so lacking in confidence that our rooms weere only US8 per night. We were full the first month we opened but it took another month before the bruises on my legs from the constant toing and froing began to disappear. Also helped by the bright idea of putting a gate in the wall from my house to the hotel. Duh!

As we are right on the beach, the salt water plays havoc with anything metal, like the fans, hinges, fridges, music systems etc and the termites and ants take care of the rest. They even ate my vacuum cleaner bags, carried all the way from the US. Your clothes and shoes, in fact everything, develop mold rashes and whites are never white for long.

The worst memory of that first year was a very bad storm, and Bali really has horrendous storms. I woke to find the front of the restaurant washed into the ocean and everything else with it. My garden wall totally disappeared. There was about 12″ of sand in the pool. The restaurant was built on sand with no reinforcements and each wave ate away at the foundations and I could swear that I could see it topple little by little. Needless to say, the rainy season is not my favorite time of the year and crashing waves make me nervous still. Out of respect for mother nature and the power of the ocean, we are now heavily reinforced.

The Bali bombing took its toll on everyone in Bali. We did not see a guest for 18 months up in the north. So, in order to keep our brains functioning at some meager pace, I taught the girls English and Gus, my partner taught maths and geography. We made clothes and bags and pillows and macrame and making mosaics and doing crossword puzzles. Interesting to see how someone who has never seen a puzzle approaches the task. I spent many hours pulling out forced in pieces. One of the girls had had to leave school at 12 as her parents could not afford to keep her in school, but her skill in maths was astonishing. The Balinese have incredible memories and will remember you and your name five years from now. One choice remark made by the staff at english class, when asked to go to the kitchen and tell the time, was “No matter what time it is, tell her it is 12 oclock”. Class ended at 12 oclock.

There are so many memories and so many great and a few not so great guests, that it would take a lot of paper to recount. In the end, I am proud of Villa Agung Beach Inn and my girls are wonderful most of the time and have been with me forever. My rebellious security guy has changed from being fired for fighting with his wife in the hotel in the middle of the night to being the best manager I could wish for. There are daily dramas but they don’t affect me quite so badly. Lovina is a little ” Peyton Place” in Bali and life is no different from anywhere else in the world. We have our scandals and gossip and family crises, but it all makes being a hotelier in Bali a pretty good life. Not to mention 7 months of constant sunshine, sea breezes and tranquil blue sea. Eat your heart out."

 

I am!

Bali during the COVID-pandemic

Watch also "Tomorrow will be better" on ABC iview.

 

Books on Bali available for free on www.archive.org

 

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Island of Bali
The Three Worlds of Bali
Bali: Enchanted isle
Soomoon Boy of Bali
Bali Tales from Bali
A House in Bali
Bali Island of Light
Betoverend Bali
The Sacred Monkeys of Bali
The Bali in Me
The Truth About The Bali Bombings 2002
On the Edge of a Dream : Magic & Madness in Bali
The Spirit Journey : Stories and Paintings of Bali
Ketut, Boy Wood Carver of Bali
Bali, Isle of Temples and Dances
The Balinese
Traditional Balinese Culture; Essays
Revolt in Paradise
Rice is Life
Bali - Morning of the World
Bali the Legendary Island

 

Have reports of Bali’s death been greatly exaggerated?

This article has been copied from "New Mandala - New Perspectives on Southeast Asia" to ensure wider distribution:

 

 

There has been a lot of speculation about the impact of COVID-19 on the Indonesian island of Bali, which has seen tourist arrivals dry up amid border closures and the grounding of domestic flights. Some of the more balanced stories have focused on the devastating impact to locals employed in the tourism industry such as hotel staff, tour guides and restaurant workers. Others have highlighted the experience of foreigners hunkered down in Bali for the duration of the crisis. These analyses vary in their tone and content, but some of the more sensationalist tend to privilege the perspective of foreigners or use somewhat alarmist language to push a narrative of impending disaster. But how dire is the situation in Bali really? An immensely challenging road certainly lays ahead, but there are some misconceptions and narratives out there that I wanted to push back against a bit.

This story in the LA Times is a good starting point. The piece is rightly critical of the Indonesian government’s slow response to the crisis, but it then says the country’s economy has “been decimated by the lack of tourists to places like Bali.” In fact, tourism makes up a relatively small portion of Indonesia’s GDP – investment and household consumption have been doing the heavy lifting of late for this trillion-dollar economy. And if you totalled up the value of all of Bali’s economic activity in 2019 it would be 1.63% of Indonesia’s total output. Is Bali an important part of the Indonesian economy that brings in large amounts of foreign currency? Undoubtedly. But Bali is not Indonesia.

Yet even if its economic footprint is not quite as big as its outsized place in peoples’ imaginations, it is a very popular tourist destination. And clearly any businesses depending on tourism are in deep trouble right now, as are their employees. The West Australian ran this piece with the headline “Bali economy collapses.” This story from Al Jazeera states that 80% of Bali’s GDP comes from tourism, while making the rather dramatic claim that “Without tourists, Bali will die.” But how accurate are these claims?

In 2019 according to the Central Statistics Agency (BPS), 45% of Bali’s GDP came from agriculture, education, manufacturing, health care, financial services and other industries that one would not expect to be directly tied to the tourism sector. 55% came from hotels, restaurants, retail, transportation, real estate and construction. The deputy governor has estimated that 60% of the island’s GDP is supported by tourism, while the head of Bali’s tourism department estimates half of the population has some connection to the industry. The loss of visitors is obviously a staggering blow to the economy, especially as service jobs supported by tourism tend to pay well – but the 80% figure still appears to be an over-estimation. It is also far from clear that this has caused the economy to collapse.

Only certain parts of Bali have really high and immediate exposure to tourism. Badung Regency, in which the tourist hot-spots of Kuta, Canggu and Seminyak are located, is the most exposed and is feeling the most immediate impact. Those areas are truly ghost towns already. But Kuta and Seminyak are not Bali. Outside of Badung, agriculture is actually the dominant industry in the majority of Bali’s regencies, accounting for nearly 25% of output in Karangasem and 26.8% in Bangli. BPS estimated that in 2018 approximately 477,000 workers were employed in the agriculture sector.

While it is possible that the price of agricultural products will fall due to shrinking demand from hotels and restaurants, the state-owned logistics and commodity broker BULOG has already stated that if that happens they will step in to buy staple goods like rice produced by Balinese farmers in order to stabilize the price. This doesn’t mean that agriculture can offset the loss of jobs and revenue from tourism. But it underscores that Bali’s economy extends beyond the tourist resorts of Nusa Dua and the beaches of Kuta into less-seen areas where hardworking people, who have fairly limited direct exposure to the tourism sector, work in the sawah and run local warungs. And their world is still very much alive.

If you travel just a few kilometres outside of the tourist enclaves of Kuta or Seminyak, you will see people out and about. The government has shut the beaches, mandated that businesses close by 9pm, banned mass gatherings and recommended that people stay home if they can. Police in Sanur are forcing anyone caught not wearing a mask to do push-ups. Some shops have closed voluntarily; others have been ordered closed in an ad-hoc fashion by small administrative units called banjar. This patchwork system of closures is a less than ideal strategy, but it does allow some businesses to remain open and pay their staff for now.

In the provincial capital of Denpasar, traffic is noticeably lighter and many restaurants are doing takeout only. The police have set up checkpoints to ensure the rules are being observed, but people are still carrying on as best they can delivering food, selling phones, giving haircuts and otherwise trying to stay afloat. Bali might be on life support, but it’s far from dead. Those who can afford to stay home are doing so. But many do not have that luxury. They must work if they are able, as Indonesia’s weak and patchy social safety net – particularly for migrant labourers – will not catch them. And so life carries on. People buy gas. They get their motorbikes fixed at the bengkel. They show up at Pasar Badung and barter over the price of chickens. Is this risky? Maybe. But the alternative is likely worse.

Excluding Badung Regency and the capital city of Denpasar, 50% or more of all economic activity in Bali’s other seven regencies (home to 2.7 million people) comes from household consumption. That is, people buying the everyday things that they need. With tourism on ice, consumption must sustain the economy on fumes for now. But people can only buy things if they can work and earn income. That is why you see people on the streets of Denpasar every day, trying their best to make do. If they stopped doing that the economy of Bali really would collapse.

For me, this idea that Bali will die without tourists comes uncomfortably close to a White Saviour narrative, implying that local people have no choice but to hunker down and endure this crisis until foreigners start showing up again to rescue them. Such framing strips Indonesians of their agency in rising to meet this challenge, something they are quite capable of doing and have done many times before. Already you see local community efforts coming together to support workers who lost their jobs. Newly unemployed tour guides are trying to pivot toward retail.

Although I know many people are suffering, I have yet to speak to a single Go-Jek driver or restaurant worker or security guard who seemed defeated. Not a single store that I have gone to has had a run on supplies. And while no one can predict when overseas tourism will come back, domestic tourism actually accounts for a larger portion of inbound travel based on sheer volume. In 2018, just over 6 million tourists arrived in Bali from overseas. By comparison, 9.75 million came from other parts of Indonesia. This means the market that is likely to come back to life and provide some revenue the soonest is one driven by Indonesians, not foreigners.

Bali’s economy has taken a huge hit, and the evaporation of the predominant service sector that provided hundreds of thousands of well-paying jobs is a big loss. But it is not an insurmountable one. It will require a monumental effort by the people of Bali—hopefully with assistance from the government—to overcome these historically challenging circumstances. But it seems clear to me such an effort is already underway. Life doesn’t stop just because tourism stops – people find a way to keep going and to push through. It is unclear how long things can go on in this way, but at least for the moment there has been no meaningful supply chain disruption, no liquidity crisis, no social unrest. People are still going out every day buying and selling the things they need in order to keep the economy alive. All of which leads me to conclude that reports of the island’s imminent demise have indeed been greatly exaggerated.