Indonesia -

t is eighty years since the owners of Dutch KPM Packet Line had the bright idea of replacing the cargo of pigs they shipped to Singapore with a new wave of culture-seeking tourists who had heard tantalising reports of the wonders of Bali. The old steamers docked on the north coast, and most of the passengers – many of them affluent socialite-vagabonds – would make a beeline to the south coast to lodge at the elegant Bali Hotel, or the informal Kuta Beach Hotel.

The trailblazing tourists returned home – those who managed to drag themselves away – with stories of a place that fitted perfectly with the popular notion of 'paradise': a tropical island of blissful climate, fringed with breathtaking beaches, and paddy fields terraced right up to the rainforested flanks of volcanoes. The 'natives' were genuinely friendly and sweet-natured, worshippers of a singularly peaceful and tolerant religion that could be witnessed in hundreds of beguiling ceremonies.

By 1930 the KPM captains were congratulating themselves on shipping almost a hundred visitors a year to the island. By 2000 there were almost 2 million yearly arrivals and Kuta had been transformed into a great sprawl of hostels, hotels, homestays, bungalows, bars, cafes, restaurants, stalls and surf-shops.

Very few islands of similar size could have resisted such an onslaught in such a seemingly effortless manner. The Balinese have proved that they have an almost uniquely resilient culture; they have managed to adapt to the 'tourism age' while retaining their deeply rooted traditions and beliefs. In the wake of the bombing of 2001 – which lives on in the collective horror of these peace-loving islanders as 'Black October' – times are tough for the thousands of locals who relied on tourism for a living. But anybody who visits the Bali just beginning to recover from a series of almost fatal blows to its tourism industry will soon find that, far from being 'a danger zone' or 'a hotbed of Islamic activists', the country is more relaxing to visit now than it has been for decades. Prices and service are better than ever and the Balinese themselves are even more welcoming than usual. Take the time to get off the beaten track and you will soon find a Bali that has remained faithful to the ideals of the near-mythical paradise island that attracted those first steamship pioneers so long ago.

Walk 'uptown' from Kuta for just half-an-hour – as far as Seminyak, with its chic designer shops, hip pubs and signature restaurants – and you will already find yourself on a magnificent stretch of beach that is nearly empty. At low tide you could conceivably walk all day along this great sweep of unbroken sand – rarely marred even by a footprint – as far as the sea temple of Tanah Lot. This temple was one of several around Bali's coast that was built as a bulwark, to protect the islanders from the evil influence of the sea and, simultaneously, as a sort of spiritual 'force-field' against the pressures of Islamic Java. During busier years hordes of tourists used to flock to the terraces at Tanah Lot to greet the sunset with a barrage of camera shutters. Today it is once again an unforgettably serene and romantic place to stroll.

The few tourists who travel beyond Tanah Lot soon realise they are entering a Bali that is even more timeless and traditional. This is the island's 'Wild West'; cowboy-country where buffalo drag ploughs through the paddies during the week and haul racing-chariots at the weekend. Just a two-hour drive from the 'madding crowd' of Kuta Beach, your only fellow sunbathers are likely to be the huge marine turtles that came to these beaches even before the first Balinese. The only sound is the putter of the outboard motor on a vibrantly painted outrigger fishing-boat, or the haunting rhythm of a gamelan orchestra playing in a distant temple.

Inland, the road climbs through a steep forest of cocoa, cinnamon and cloves and passes through occasional highland villages where tourism is still unknown. Some parts of the western hills are so unpopulated and unexplored, nobody can confidently dispute the local rumours they are still the territory of the last of the Balinese tigers. Stranger things are said to exist here: leyak witches swoop through the valleys at night; village shaman have the power to bring rain to thirsty paddies or divert it from a village festival; near the village of Manggissari the road goes straight through the immense trunk of a bunut tree that is said to swallow evil people who try to pass.

Beyond this 'spiritual immigration post' the road begins to swoop down through great terraced valleys, giant's staircases leading to the sacred highlands. Lovina Beach, on the north coast, is famed for the incredible sunset light show that magically projects the volcanoes of Java (invisible throughout the day) onto the tropical sky. Aficionados return here regularly for the great diving and snorkelling, though the turquoise reefs fringing the arid hills of Amed are reputed to be among the best in Indonesia. You can swim out directly from the beach or, for a few dollars, you can hire an outrigger and guide and sail out to rendezvous with one of the 'herds' of gigantic wrasse fish, known here as 'reef buffalo.'

It has been said that Balinese are one of the few island peoples who do not turn their eyes towards the sea but instead face inland, towards the mountains. Although it might be hard to understand, when you have seen just a few of the three hundred miles of fantastic coastline, Bali's most revered spot is certainly Gunung Agung volcano – the God-Mountain. Many visitors make a pre-dawn 'pilgrimage' up the volcano and, at sunrise, with swirling mists wrapping the newborn land below and fading towards the hills of Java, you can fully understand why Bali has been called the 'Morning of the World.'

The Balinese believe that when they die they will find heaven to be identical to this earthly paradise that the gods have loaned them. To anyone who has watched sunset from the cliffs at Tanah Lot or the 'Morning of the World' from the peak of Gunung Agung this does not seem unreasonable.