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West Until We're East
In the race between duct-tape infrastructure, like jury-rigged power-lines and lean-to Suzuki garages and faster food and newer ringtones, and social infrastructure like health care and water quality, and historical infrastructure like conservation and cultural self-awareness, it looks too much to me like the Balinese have been sold the cheapest crap for themselves, and paid dearly for luxuries they can only turn around and give back to their nominal patrons at a loss. If they're cannibalizing their own Paradise, they're getting plenty of help. We eat like kings, and have them send just our desserts to the small palace that's costing four of us, even at outlandish resort prices, less than a bed-size high-rise cubby for two in Shinjuku. We've become hopelessly addicted to palm sugar, and to the sensible idea that no day is complete until you've eaten bananas in at least seven different forms. I hope I'm wrong about this island.
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