Almost all the mountain villages, for instance, now had electricity and running water. In Ubud, the main street was choked with shops and galleries, with new restaurants and upscale hotels. Traffic was a constant snarl. Muka and I walked up to Nyoman's family homestay, where I'd lived more than a decade ago. I climbed over and walked up the stairs.
Balinese homes are generally walled compounds, consisting of several houses.
There had been three or four at Homestay Adur, but when I stepped over the threshold, I saw that all but one of the small wooden houses had been torn down. There was a huge hole in the center of what had been a graceful courtyard, and workmen were busily digging into the earth, setting the foundation for a new central building. In the single house left standing, a dozen or more people sat at sewing machines, sweating in the heat and making T-shirts. Nyoman, I was told, wasn't in at present. He had gone down to his T-shirt shop on the tourist beach at Kuta.