Few places have been asked to be so many things at once. Bali is a surf trip, a honeymoon, a yoga retreat, a party and a remote office, often on the same stretch of coast. The surprise is how little of its own character the island has surrendered in the bargain.
Scratch beneath the resorts and Bali is profoundly Hindu, its days shaped by offerings laid on every doorstep, its calendar full of ceremony. The little woven baskets of flowers and rice you step around on the pavement are not for show; they are the island quietly keeping its own appointments.
Bali gives itself to everyone and, somehow, stays itself.
Visitors are welcome at the temples that allow them, on one condition: cover your legs. Carry a sarong — many temples require one — and you can move between the island’s two lives, the one it shows the world and the one it keeps for itself, with grace.
