The gardens of the Balina Serai hotel were planted in a coconut grove. All the existing trees were left in situ.
Gardens of Eden
'The morning of the world" was how Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru of India described Bali when he came as an official guest in the 1950s. To an earlier visitor, the American Hickman Powell, it was "the last paradise"; to others, a tropical Shangri-La, a refuge from worldly confusion, the very embodiment of a thousand tempting fantasies.
Bali has long exerted this peculiar power to seduce and stir the romantic imagination, not only among travellers fortunate enough to have beheld its charms with their own eyes, but also among a far greater number whose dreams derived from little more than its magically evocative name or through faded pictures in old National Geographic magazines. An important part of the allure, both in the past and today, is the island's omnipresent creativity and the richly complex culture of its people. "Everybody in Bali seems to be an artist," commented the painter Miguel Covarrubias. Another part of the appeal, equally strong, arises from the sheer physical beauty of the place.
"It takes a little time," as a newcomer to the tropics once wrote, "for the temperate mind to accept the palm-tree as a common, natural, and inevitable object in every outlook and landscape." A similar sense of botanical revelation occurs on any drive through Bali away from its few large towns. Along the coasts, coconut palms by the thousands form a permanent skyline of graceful fronds stirring in languid sea breezes, while elsewhere, huge Ficus trees wrap their roots around mossy walls, wild-looking jungles spill dramatically down picturesque ravines to streams and rivers, and tree ferns rise elegantly beside cool, shimmering lakes that adorn the craters of ancient volcanoes. In more settled places, a glimpse through the gateway of even the smallest courtyard reveals a riot of flowering shrubs and creepers, seemingly growing at random and clearly without much effort. There is a feeling of space, of Eden-like abundance, of moving through a vast but interconnected garden where every conceivable variation of green is on permanent display, from palest lime to purest emerald, accented here and there with a startling burst of colour.
Crinums, golden-flowered Allamanda, Plumeria and Caesalpinia in a garden created by Bradley Gardner at Begawan Giri Estate, near Ubud.
Hemerocallis and a decorative fountain in front of the Eka Karya Botanic Gardens guest house at Bedugul, where the elevation encourages temperate climate plants to bloom.
It thus comes as something of a surprise to discover that Bali is not only relatively small-a mere 144 kilometres at its widest and just 80 kilometres long-but is also one of the most densely populated places in the world: at is believed that as of the year 2000, Bali is supporting more than three million people.
There are several reasons why Bali's visual impact remains so powerful despite the stark reality of its statistics. It is blessed with fertile volcanic soil, ample water in the form of rain and natural springs, and equatorial temperatures that are, nearly everywhere, conducive to continual growth. The famous Wallace Line that divides the lush vegetation of subtropical Asia from the comparatively arid conditions of Australia runs along the narrow strait that separates Bali from Lombok, its closest neighbour.
Moreover, although many parts of the island are intensely cultivated and have been for over 1000 years, the man-made aspects have a way of merging with its natural contours. Margaret Mead, the famous anthropologist, was struck by the constantly changing beauty of the rice fields, even in the more populated regions. Writing to a friend in 1936 from her base in Ubud, she noted "half a dozen characteristic but different aspects-those which are almost on a level, whose principal charm is the great variation in the same texture and colour as one small plot ripens an hour or a day behind the other, but all the varying shades remain within the same narrow range, and the flooded fields, which actually do mirror the sky, and the steep terraces, where the roots of each stalk stand out like sharp patterns along the edge."
The traditional gateway with Hemerocallis and Cannas in front of the Bali Handara Country Club; set inside an ancient volcanic crater, this is one of the most beautiful golf courses in the world. The large orange-flowering tree in the background is Spathodea campanulata, originally from West Africa.
A quiet pathway leading to the garden restaurant at the Bali Hyatt in Sanur.
There is yet another important factor-the deeply ingrained Balinese reverence for nature, which makes itself felt in countless ways. Trees, especially large ones like the Waringin, or Banyan, are looked upon as the abodes of spirits and are often the original reason for building a temple or shrine in a particular place. In villages, they provide a broad canopy for shows and dances held in the communal square. Flowers, too, play a cultural role; everywhere one sees the pristine white Plumeria, the bold Hibiscus, the papery bracts of Bougainvillea, the powerfully-scented Michaelia champaca, and numerous others, as offerings, incorporated into paintings, and woven into the glossy black hair of girls.
Bali's luxuriance is futher enhanced by more contemporary contributions to the landscape, a process that still continues. Many of the private homes and housing estates have gardens of singular beauty and horticultural richness, as do major resort hotels and even smaller guest bungalows. Nusa Dua, not many years ago a comparatively barren area near the island's southern tip, has been transformed through government initiative into a spacious park of green lawns, flowering trees and water features.
Like all islands born of volcanic violence, Bali acquired its rich variety of plants from the outside world only gradually over the millenia. The great majority of the ornamental trees and shrubs, as well as some of the others grown for commercial purposes, came to the island relatively