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You either resonate within an environment or you don’t. It either works for you or it doesn’t.

That’s been my experience wherever I have traveled and Indonesia has been almost entirely the former rather than the latter…..until I came to Kuta.

I can’t put my finger on exactly why but there’s something about that part of Bali that just doesn’t sit right with me (other locations that I visited across the island were perfect). There's a vibe, an impression about the environment that feels immediately “wrong” and is communicated in subtle, almost imperceptible ways. The presence of entertainment venues and establishments filled with large numbers of tattooed, pasty-skinned, out-of-shape Western tourists with cold eyes, hollow stares and lewd manners. The prevalence of massage parlours offering services both openly and discreetly advertised. The not inconsiderable numbers of young Asian women stood on the street seductively eyeing passing male tourists. Small children aggressively persistent in their attempts to sell their pedalled goods to approaching tourists. Hard eyed Indonesian males who have the appearance of being well versed in the arts of violence and unafraid to practice them. Stray dogs that hold your gaze and signal their readiness to attack at the slightest perceived provocation (I have never experienced this elsewhere in Bali).

There’s something off, not quite “right”, an energy to the place that feels seedy, corrupted and, overwhelmingly, unclean. A hostile place for those who don’t belong and one that seems to recognise and repel such strangers in its midst.

Of all the places I have visited this far in Indonesia Kuta gave off the most uncomfortable and unpleasant vibe by far. Even Yogyakarta, which definitely had a strange atmosphere that I sensed and reacted to (which, according to my Indonesian friends, is due to the magical nature of Yogyakarta; one that is recognised and acknowledged by many Indonesians living on the island of Java), didn’t affect me in the way that Kuta did.

I sensed something wasn’t quite right as I made my way towards the nearby beach (which, in complete contradiction to the rest of this article, is beautiful, relaxing and affords amazing views of the setting sun against the sea - I would highly recommend visiting) but I didn’t pay too much attention at the time.

This would change on my way back down the road from the beach that is lined with locally owned/managed stores and establishments selling services and goods aimed almost entirely at tourists visiting the region.

I wasn’t particularly surprised to see a large number of massage parlours/spas there as I had seen a similar concentration in certain streets that I had traveled during my stay in Ubud.

What I didn’t expect to discover was how many of the massage parlours in Kuta were operating as brothels.

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised. This is Bali - a highly desirable location for Western tourists; many of whom are male. There’s a lot of alcohol here. A lot of Indonesian women. There’s a lot of disposable holiday cash. Many Indonesians unfortunately work in a very low-wage economy. Under those conditions it kind of makes sense that a sex tourism industry of sorts might emerge right?

I’ve traveled the world. I’m far from inexperienced in certain matters of the flesh and I have a history that doesn’t leave me feeling entirely proud nor pleased with how I have behaved at times. It’s not like I haven’t seen this type of operation before…..but in Indonesia? In a predominantly Muslim country with, from my experiences at least, strong family and community relations - where honour and purity are prized quite highly? Was I really so naive as to not be aware of this happening here?

Clearly.

The two young women stood outside one massage parlour quickly handed me a leaflet as they eagerly proceeded to explain that they offered a very sexy massage service.

Ping. This is when the light inside my head switched on.

This wasn’t just any massage service. This was a sexy massage service. This was something extra.

I looked at the two young women who, now that they had my attention, were all smiles and eagerly trying to coax me to come inside the parlour with them. They looked young; possibly too young (an unpleasant thought in and of itself) and they didn’t look too good. Their skin was covered in acne and they had the appearance of being undernourished. Then there was the issue of their clothing; which I hadn’t really paid much attention to before but now that the context was becoming more sexualised I began noticing how tight this was; how their trousers and shirts hugged certain contours of their figure very closely; accentuating and exaggerating their feminine assets.

On top of it all though was that look in their eyes; part seductive, part predator, part mockery, part contempt. I’ve seen that same look many times before whenever I’ve been sized up by women lacking in honour and integrity who are trying to get something from me. The inevitable, and predictable, act when they’re trying to convince me that their words are real but their eyes never fail to betray what they truly feel.

Yeah, nothing new to see here. I could read this situation in a darkened room with my eyes closed.

Still, I wanted to have a little fun with these girls. Play with their attention and run the con on them while teasing out the truth.

What was a sexy massage I asked. Did this mean that sex was available? The girls quickly glanced around, as if shy to respond should any passers-by happen to overhear the conversation, and quietly answered that other girls could be called and brought to the parlour but that would be best discussed if I followed them inside.

Hmm…called by who and supplied by who?

I asked why I needed to follow them inside. They responded that they couldn’t talk outside and began trying to pull me with them. I stepped back and they reached out more insistently, redoubling their efforts to pull me with them. I stepped back another pace and now their smiles started to morph into expressions of frustration. Were they going to snag this transaction or not? Was this bule serious or just wasting their time? Didn’t he want to have sex?

Now they were practically pleading with me to come inside and that was the red flag to leave. I had carried the conversation as far as I was willing too but now I started to sense that whoever these girls worked for was likely waiting inside or nearby. I didn’t want to attract undue attention and I didn’t know whether local males might be watching the conversation and be part of the parlour operation; whether as pimps, enforcers or protection. Who knows what their numbers might be and what weapons they might be carrying - particularly if they were intent on escorting me inside to help facilitate such a transaction.

The eagerness and insistence of these girls for me to enter was met with my departure instead - the con was a little bit of fun on my part but now I just wanted to get as far away from there as possible. The situation was becoming very uncomfortable and I needed to be anywhere but there.

I couldn’t help but wonder though just how many unsuspecting male tourists might have entered that parlour looking forward to some paid sex only to be pressured into handing over money by male ‘staff’ members who just happened to be working there (or having their wallets surreptitiously inspected by other girls whilst engaged in the act and their cash/credit card details taken without their knowledge).

Then there’s always the question of how many of the girls supplied for such work have been trafficked, sold by family members, pressured by lovers or forced through economic necessity to engage in that trade (and how many men accessing such services simply couldn’t care less for the girls and their circumstances as long as they get their end away).

And disease? It’s hard not to imagine how many sexually transmitted infections might easily have been passed between clients and employees in such circumstances and how many of those men have returned back to their families unknowingly infected only to eventually contribute to the growing burden on Western health services thanks to ever increasing STI rates in that region of the world.

All in all I was relieved to walk away but, as I did so, I noticed there were other massage parlours nearby that offered a similar service and had the same seedy vibe to them. I guess the trade in Kuta must be booming with all that predominantly foreign money coming in - well, with the exception of my own that is.

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